Forcestone: The Blind Path
by ForceForGood
Summary: The discovery of a mysterious clone army leads to war and forces Obi-Wan Kenobi to make a difficult personal choice that will have repercussions in the Jedi Order and throughout the galaxy. This is a novel-length Obi-centric AU that spans the Episode 2 timeline. Ch. 11: Dooku's plan is set into motion and Qui-Gon goes missing from Kamino.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** "Forcestone: The Blind Path"

**Summary:** The discovery of a mysterious clone army leads to war and forces Obi-Wan Kenobi to make a difficult personal choice that will have repercussions in the Jedi Order and throughout the galaxy. This is a novel-length Obi-centric AU that spans the Episode 2 timeline.

**Genre and rating:** Mainly drama. Rated PG/K+ for moderate violence and mild language. Contains no sexual content or slash.

**Characters:** All the main Star Wars characters will be touched on, but my focus will be on Obi-Wan Kenobi, with supporting roles by Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin Skywalker, an original character, Siri Tachi and Padmè Amidala.

**Inspirations, disclaimers and thanks:** I drew from many official Star Wars sources for inspiration, including George Lucas' six films and their novelizations. Since this is AU, my story may or may not contain spoilers to these works. I, of course, do not own the rights to any of these works, including the characters and plots therein, and I swear on my lightsaber that I gain no profit from my story. This is a hobby for me and I've enjoyed every moment of it! I hope you do, too.

**Dedication:** For my husband, who has been so supportive of my writing; my young apprentices (also known as my beautiful children); and fans worldwide who have kept the marvelous story of Star Wars alive and growing for decades.

**Note:** Although this story is a sequel to my "Forcestone: Guardian of Light," I have designed it to work as a stand-alone story, so if you'd like to jump in and start reading here, go right ahead!

**Chapter 1**

He detected it the moment he stepped off the airbus: A tantalizing aroma drifting through the air, discernible in fits and snatches as passing cloud cars stirred up layers of Coruscant's smoggy atmosphere.

Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in the delectable scent, which was wafting toward him from the north end of the plaza where a squat, grimy oval of a building was belching steam from twin vents in the roof. It was too far away to be sure, but he thought he could identify the smell of Talus-and-Tralus sliders. And Ho'Din-style omelets. And baking Kessinnamon pie.

Obi-Wan smiled with satisfaction. Now that was the scent of home. Not the horrible stench currently pervading the corridors of the Jedi Temple, where he had attempted to eat dinner less than an hour ago: like a mixture of burnt seaweed and rotting nerf meat. The Temple cooks had called the travesty of a dish "vercupti of sgazza boleruuee." Obi-Wan had no idea what it was made of, or what species of Jedi it was intended to be a meal for, but the smell had put him off of eating any of the other dishes being offered in the Temple refectory that day. And so he had made his way to CoCo Town. Old habits die hard.

Obi-Wan walked across the plaza and soon reached his destination, easily identifiable by the lighted sign in the front window proclaiming: Dex's Diner.

He paused outside the door for a moment, waiting for a group of dock workers to exit - their smocks now stained with grease from Dex's famous sliders to complement the industrial grease stains from the starships they unloaded - and then he walked inside, accompanied by the jingling of the bell on the door.

Almost instantly he was spotted by Hermione Bagwa, a blond, dimpled Human waitress who had been working for Dex since he'd bought the diner and who knew all the regulars on sight.

"Hi, hon," she said, as she bustled past Obi-Wan with a tray full of drinks. "I'll tell Dex you're here. I'm sure he'll be right out."

"No need to rush," he called after her, wondering briefly if Hermione knew she was the only person in the galaxy who got away with calling him "hon." "I'm not here on business."

"So much the better," Hermione said, flashing him a quick smile before turning her attention back to her customers. Obi-Wan scanned the room, which was only half-full at this hour, and briefly considered sitting at the bar, when someone sitting alone at one of the booths caught his attention.

Well, well, well. Apparently Anakin Skywalker had also taken a disliking to vercupti of whatever.

The Padawan was sitting hunched in the corner of a booth, alternating between idly shredding a napkin on the table and gazing moodily out the window.

The door jingled again, and a large group of middle-aged men entered the diner and stood in a cluster near Obi-Wan as they looked around for an empty table large enough to accommodate them. Law clerks, judging by the IDs swinging from their belts, but by their dress there was nothing to distinguish them from so many of those in the middle class - simple tunics, long robes, all in neutral colors to conform with courtroom dress codes. Anakin glanced up at the law clerks, and for a split second his eyes rested on Obi-Wan standing in their midst, but then slid right on past to observe a pair of Twi'lek girls shrieking and giggling as they watched a young man try to impress them with his skills on an old-fashioned simulated flying game displayed on a boxy console against the wall.

Obi-Wan grinned, having some idea why Anakin had failed to recognize him, and nonchalantly followed the law clerks as they walked past Anakin's table, but then turned and quietly crept up from behind. Now Anakin was stirring his drink absentmindedly, but his fingers weren't touching the straw - he was swirling his finger in a small circle around the straw, which was mimicking the movement as though an invisible thread was attached to it.

"A Jedi does not use the Force frivolously," he said in a stern voice right by Anakin's ear.

To his credit, Anakin didn't jump - his reflexes were finely tuned enough that he knew instinctively when he was in danger and when he wasn't - but he did turn sharply and give Obi-Wan a long puzzled stare until at last his eyes widened in recognition. "Obi-Wan?" he said incredulously. "What in the...?" His voice trailed off in confusion.

"Good to see you too, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, smiling. "And yes, thank you, I would love to join you. Thanks for asking." He sat down on the seat opposite Anakin and permitted himself a slight smirk.

Anakin stared at him for another moment, and then a grin began to spread slowly across his face. "Hey, Obi-Wan," he said. "You've got something on your face."

"Oh, ha, ha, very funny."

"Looks like a nerf died and got stuck on your chin."

"It's called a beard. Someday, when you're a man, you can have one too."

Anakin laughed. "Hey, I'm 19 years old. I'm already a man."

"Really? Because your chin looks as smooth as a baby membibi."

"That's because I know what a razor is and how to use it. What happened to yours?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I threw it out."

"What for?"

"Can't tell you. Then I'd have to kill you."

"So the beard's for some undercover thing?"

"No, not really."

"Well, what then?" Anakin demanded.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "None of your business."

Anakin shook his head. "I'll get it out of you sooner or later, so I don't know why you bother to resist."

"You're not that irresistible. Although I think those Twi'leks think you are."

Interested, Anakin craned his head to look at the girls. "Really? Why? Were they looking at me?"

Obi-Wan lightly punched Anakin's arm. "In your dreams. Women like real men. Bearded men."

Anakin punched Obi-Wan back good-naturedly. "You mean old men? Like you?" Successfully diverted from the topic at hand, he laughed and then settled back into his seat and took a sip from his drink. "It's been way too long, Obi-Wan. More than a year since Taris, hasn't it been? How did you find me here, anyway?" Suddenly his eyes narrowed. "Did Qui-Gon send you out to look for me?"

"No. I haven't seen him. I didn't even know the two of you were on Coruscant. I just arrived home yesterday."

"Oh." Anakin relaxed a little. "Yeah, we've been here a few weeks. Master Qui-Gon thinks I need to focus on my academics." He wrinkled his nose to show what he thought about that. "Where's Ivan?"

"He's having a little impromptu sparring session with a couple of his friends. More for fun than for training, I think, but he's earned some play time. We've been out in the field a long time." Obi-Wan didn't mention that he had felt the need for downtime himself, which was partly why he'd headed to Dex's Diner in the first place. It was a joy to be around Ivan Bal-Tova and a pleasure to be his Master, but after spending the last year and a half on back-to-back missions, all full of rushing around the galaxy and quelling conflicts and chasing down people and hiding from people and trying to stay out of politics and trying not to get killed, all the while living in close quarters with a Padawan who had now grown old enough and confident enough to start talking back to his Master when he didn't agree with Obi-Wan's decisions...

Well, it was enough to say it was time for a break. Obi-Wan was looking forward to a slower pace of living while they were at the Temple, and an opportunity to begin guiding his Padawan through some of the meditations and studies that would help him prepare for the Trials. At 21, Ivan was more than halfway through his apprenticeship, and soon he would enter the final and most difficult phase of his training. Obi-Wan knew Ivan was feeling trepidation about that, and so was he. Had it really been nine years since he'd asked that slender young boy to be his Padawan? And now Ivan was counted among the senior Padawans and had grown taller than Obi-Wan, something Ivan never let him forget. Only a handful of years left, and Ivan would be Knighted, Force willing, and then what would Obi-Wan do with himself? Right now he couldn't even imagine. He could barely remember what it was like, that year between his own Knighting and when he had taken Ivan as his first student. He seemed to remember it had been lonely.

Suddenly, something Anakin had said a moment ago sunk in. "Wait a minute. Is Qui-Gon out looking for you, Anakin?"

Anakin's face grew serious. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably not, though. He would have at least tried to call first."

"But he doesn't know where you are?"

"No," Anakin reluctantly admitted. "I left kind of... suddenly."

"Oh, Anakin," Obi-Wan began, dismayed, but was interrupted by Flo, Dex's droid waitress, as she rolled up and asked Obi-Wan what he'd like.

"I'll start with a Pantoran Plate No. 3. And a cup of ardees, please, and make sure it's good and hot," Obi-Wan said.

"It's always good, and it's always hot," Flo said waspishly, and having said her say, whirred away to get it, a distinct ruffled attitude emanating from her tin frame.

When Obi-Wan looked back across the table, Anakin was busily stirring his drink again - holding the straw with his fingers this time - and keeping his head ducked down low, so that all Obi-Wan could see was the top of his spiky hair.

"Is everything all right?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

"Not really," Anakin mumbled, not looking up. "We, uh... had words, Qui-Gon and I."

"I see."

Anakin stirred his drink purposefully again, although all the ice had long ago melted, but finally he stopped and looked up, intensity blazing in his eyes.

"I'm not a little boy anymore," he said. "But Qui-Gon manages not to see it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he does nothing but criticize me! No matter what I say or do, it's never good enough."

"Oh, Anakin. That's what a Master is for - helping you find your flaws and correct them. How else would you grow and learn? And I have heard him compliment you many times."

"I know, I know." Anakin toned down his voice a little. "Don't get me wrong - he's a wonderful Master and I'm grateful to be his apprentice. Only... he's being so stubborn! I'm ready for the Trials now. I know I am. But he refuses to bring me before the Council!"

Obi-Wan kept his voice neutral, sensing that this was a time to listen and not to lecture. "That must be frustrating."

"It is! Look. The Trial of Courage? I've already passed it a dozen times over. I have never faced a foe that I feared to fight. Never. And the Trial of Skills? I could have passed it a year ago. I can already beat half the Knights in the Temple. And don't look at me like that. It isn't bragging. Master Drallig said it himself."

"You are a skilled fighter," Obi-Wan allowed. "But those are only two of the five tests."

"I'm ready to take the others, too. I'm sure I could handle them. But Qui-Gon won't even give me the chance!" Anakin paused for a moment as Flo returned to their table to deliver Obi-Wan's ardees before wheeling on to another customer's table, holding a platter piled high with Dex's famous sliders and overflowing with heaps of garnish.

When she was gone, Anakin looked at Obi-Wan and spread his arms helplessly. "Did Qui-Gon do this to you? How long did you have to wait before he finally - well, I guess he never did let you take the Trials, did he?"

"The circumstances of my Knighting were rather unusual, as I'm sure you remember. But just like you, I was sure I was ready for the Trials years before I actually was."

"Years..." Anakin moaned. "I can't wait that long."

"Be patient. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up," Obi-Wan said. He took a sip of ardees and grimaced. Lukewarm, of course.

"One day you'll think of your apprenticeship as one of the best times of your life," Obi-Wan continued. "I know I do."

"Well, it's easy for you to say that," Anakin said. "Qui-Gon likes you. He can't say enough good things about you. Obi-Wan, the perfect Padawan."

Obi-Wan laughed out loud.

"By the stars, Anakin - I was far from being a perfect Padawan. I could tell you a few things about it, only I'm too ashamed to. And even if you aren't a perfect Padawan, Anakin, it doesn't mean Qui-Gon disapproves of you. He's very fond of you. He just... he has very high expectations of you. You're certainly capable of rising to those expectations, but you mustn't be surprised that he is being careful not to push you too far, too fast. Knighting a Jedi before he's ready can cause a great deal of damage, both to him and to those whose wellbeing is placed into his hands too soon. If Qui-Gon is delaying your advancement, he's doing it because he has reason to believe it's in your best interests."

Anakin slowly let out a breath. "I know. I know. You're right, as always. It's just... hard to wait. I feel like my feet are stuck in sand. I want to move."

Yes, Obi-Wan thought, that was Anakin in a nutshell. Always on the move.

Flo wheeled past again to deliver Obi-Wan's dinner, and the conversation turned to other topics as he began to eat. Anakin pulled himself out of his gloom enough to help himself to some of Obi-Wan's dinner. Luckily the portions were big.

They had just cleaned the platter and were beginning to debate what kind of dessert to get when they were confronted with a rather loud interruption.

"Obi-Wan!" a great booming voice shouted out from the general direction of the kitchen. Obi-Wan and Anakin turned their heads to see where it was coming from - and so did everyone else in the diner.

Dexter Jettster was the sort of being who would command attention in almost any crowd, and even more so in his own domain, where all the regulars knew him and loved him. A grizzled old Besalisk, he towered over everyone else in the diner, and thanks to a steady diet of his own deep-fried food he had them beat in girth as well. Although upon meeting Dexter, one's eye was inevitably drawn to his four beefy arms, capable of crushing most sentients with a slight effort, in truth Dex ruled over his diner with a light hand and a cheerful voice. He was quick to make a joke, always interested in what you had to say, full of strange wisdom and outlandish stories from his many travels through the galaxy, a deft hand in the kitchen, and most importantly, he was generous with his portions. He was, in short, impossible to dislike.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Jedi!" Dex exclaimed, lumbering over to Obi-Wan's table and grabbing him in a four-armed embrace. "And young Anakin, too!" Anakin was treated to the same enthusiastic welcome.

"Hello, Dex," Obi-Wan said. "I think you should know, Flo is in fine form today."

Dex chuckled heartily. "You don't need to tell me! Hermione spent all morning getting her worked up. Bossing Flo around as if she were a dishwashing machine and not a cagey little droid who's been waitressing longer than Hermione has! I never get a moment's peace when those two share a shift."

"Hey, Dex," Anakin said. "Got anything new?"

Obi-Wan could have kicked Anakin for asking. Dex was always experimenting with new and more unhealthy variations to his menu, and often recruited his regulars to test them out. Trying one of Dex's new dishes was much like gambling - you might find yourself dazzled by an incredible new taste sensation, or you might end up spending an uncomfortable night in the Healer's Wing. But Obi-Wan was too fond of Dex to refuse his requests - and Force knew he owed Dex many times over for the street information he could provide when Obi-Wan couldn't find what he needed from the Temple's resources. If Dex couldn't provide an answer, he would at least know where you could find someone who could. And so Obi-Wan tolerated being made into a gastronomical experiment from time to time. But he wasn't mad enough to invite such opportunities. He tried to shoot Anakin a subtle glare for bringing up the subject, but Anakin missed it because he was busy looking hopefully at Dex as though he were actually looking forward to gambling with his health.

"Ah, I hoped you would ask that! I do have something new, and you two are exactly what I need to give 'em a try," Dex said. "Come on! Come in! You've got to see this!"

Dex pushed open the swinging door that led to the kitchen, and impatiently gestured for them to follow him. Anakin went without hesitation. Obi-Wan sighed, and then followed them with a resigned air.

The two Jedi followed Dex through the kitchen, Obi-Wan trying not to notice how greasy both the surfaces and the cooks themselves were ... but Dex unexpectedly walked right past all the sizzling griddles and bubbling pots and exited through the back door.

Obi-Wan had never been behind the diner before, and looked around curiously. A high wall surrounded a wide, flat expanse of dirt, a rare sight in a city long ago covered over by permacrete and metal. A rough track had been marked out around the perimeter of the area. And parked side by side on the track were two of the strangest looking vehicles Obi-Wan had ever seen.

They were boxy and small, just large enough for a single humanoid to sit inside at the controls. One was painted in yellow stripes and the other with red stripes. But most extraordinary of all were the four round rubbery objects attached to the bottom of the vehicle where a repulsorlift should have been installed.

"They have wheels? That roll on the ground?" Anakin said in disbelief.

"Quaint," Obi-Wan said. "Where did you get them?"

"I first saw one of these when I was out prospecting on Subterrel, beyond the Outer Rim," Dex said. "This baby was manufactured for racing in the the Petnap Arena. They don't use hovercraft of any kind there - it's tradition. What you have here is a Querrian land vehicle."

"Gonzo!" Anakin said, already crawling under one of them to inspect the innards. "Look at that! The braking mechanism actually uses friction!"

Obi-Wan stuck his head through the open frame of the cockpit and looked at the pilot's controls. Rather than a console filled with buttons and levers, as he was accustomed to seeing in a speeder, there was only a large wheel with various knobs sticking out around it.

"You steer with that," Dex said, pointing to the wheel. "No up or down, of course - just left and right."

"But how do you make it go?"

"You press the pedals on the floor with your feet. One makes you speed up, the other slows you down. Don't press both at the same time, or you'll end up a mangled wreck." Dex laughed heartily.

"Sounds dangerous," Obi-Wan said. "These Querrians, do they make a safe vehicle?"

"That depends."

"Depends on what, Dex?"

The Besalisk grinned. "On how good your manners are. And how big your pocketbook is. Safety features cost more."

Anakin scrambled out from under the vehicle. His tunic and trousers were covered in dirt, but his smile was a mile wide.

"Can we fly them, Dex? I mean, drive them? Please?"

"Whattaya think I brought you out here for?" Dex said. He hitched up his trousers with two of his arms, and gestured at the two Jedi with the other two. "Get in! I'd like to see them in action. If they're any good, I might start up a little side business hosting races back here. Bring in more customers."

Anakin didn't need any urging. In moments he had climbed into the yellow-striped land vehicle and was fastening the safety straps. Obi-Wan hesitated.

"Wait, I have a bad feeling about this. Why does it come with safety straps?" he asked Dex.

"Obi-Wan, lighten up," Anakin said, starting his engine. "You think too much. Just get in and go!"

"I've got to think too much, because you don't think enough," Obi-Wan muttered, but Anakin didn't hear him over the roar of the engine.

Obi-Wan climbed into the red-striped vehicle and started it up. Anakin was already halfway around the track and gaining speed. By the time Obi-Wan had strapped in, the yellow vehicle whipped past his, spraying dust into the air.

It didn't take long to get a feel for the vehicle. Obi-Wan was surprised to find he enjoyed it - the way he could feel the tires digging into the track as he turned the steering wheel, the way the vehicle jolted over every bump, the way the wind whipped his hair around. After half a dozen laps, Anakin came up behind him, abruptly swerved around and then cut in front of him. Obi-Wan slammed on the brakes and his vehicle skidded to a halt. Anakin backed up his vehicle until he stopped next to Obi-Wan and grinned mischievously through the side window at him.

"Nice reflexes," he said. "How do you like it?"

"Well, I suppose it's better than flying," Obi-Wan said. "I like not having to worry about plummeting down to my death in the event of an accident."

"It needs something more to spice up the experience," Anakin said. "We need more speed. And some competition. I'll bet you one of Dex's sliders that I can finish three laps before you can."

"You just ate!"

"That was half an hour ago."

"That isn't a good idea, Anakin. These don't belong to us, and if we wreck them..."

"I'm not going to wreck mine," Anakin said confidently. "Come on, Obi-Wan. When was the last time you did anything impulsive?"

"It seems like I always end up doing something impulsive when I'm with you."

"Then you'll do it!" Anakin said triumphantly.

Anakin's enthusiasm was infectious. Obi-Wan knew he shouldn't, but he found himself saying, "Very well."

They circled around to the other side of the track to ask Dex to start them off. While they had been driving around, the cooks from the kitchen and several more customers had joined Dex outside, and they were enthusiastic about watching a race.

Dex banged a spoon against a pot to signal the start of the race. Anakin and Obi-Wan slammed their accelerators to maximum and wheels spun madly in the dirt, creating billows of dust, before the vehicles suddenly leaped forward. Anakin whooped in jubilation as his surged ahead.

Obi-Wan didn't need to use the Force to see the future. There was just no way he - or probably anyone else in the galaxy - could best Anakin Skywalker in a piloting contest of any kind. Obi-Wan had hardly completed his second lap when Anakin came rocketing up behind him to finish his third.

Dex and the spectators shouted their approval, and Anakin hopped out of his yellow-striped vehicle and acknowledged the applause with a huge grin and an extravagant bow. Obi-Wan turned off his vehicle and good-naturedly joined the noisy crowd in slapping Anakin's back.

"Now, that is racing!" Anakin exclaimed. "I need to get myself a couple of these!"

"Too bad possessions are forbidden," Obi-Wan said wryly.

"Well, I wouldn't tell anyone about it!" Anakin said. "I'll smuggle them into the Temple one piece at a time and hide them somewhere. Then when everyone's asleep, I'll rebuild them and go for a joyride. After all, our ancient predecessors built the hallways big enough to fly a starfighter through. Might as well put them to good use."

"An excellent plan," Obi-Wan said. "Except you just told me about it."

"I'll let you drive sometimes, if you keep my secret."

"Will you let me win sometimes?"

Anakin pretended to think about it. "No."

"I'm going straight to Master Windu." Obi-Wan pulled away from the throng and marched purposefully toward the kitchen door.

"Oh no you don't!" Anakin dove forward and got between Obi-Wan and the door and put up his hands in a mock fighting stance.

Obi-Wan folded his arms calmly. "Rules are made to be followed, Anakin. I have the high moral ground."

"You underestimate my powers," Anakin warned. He took a step toward Obi-Wan.

"Don't try it," Obi-Wan said coolly.

Anakin attacked.

But when he went to restrain Obi-Wan in a headlock, his arms closed around empty space.

The next thing he knew, his legs were kicked out from under him, and he hit the dirt with a thud. The crowd laughed and applauded energetically.

"Urgh," Anakin said, staring up at the smoggy sky.

Obi-Wan leaned over him, grinning delightedly. "Oh dear. The little student thought he could beat a teacher!"

"I hate you," Anakin said, but the effect was spoiled because he couldn't help laughing as he said it.

"You'll have to be more convincing than that," Obi-Wan said, extending a hand to help Anakin up.

Anakin gripped Obi-Wan's hand and dragged him down into the dirt too. In moments they were rolling around in an impromptu wrestling match.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" a cook yelled out. Everyone else took up the chant. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Neither one made much headway because they were both laughing too much. Obi-Wan eventually managed to shove Anakin off him and get a moment to catch his breath.

"You still owe me a slider," Anakin said smugly, standing up and brushing the dust off his knees.

"Very well," Obi-Wan said tolerantly. "Let's make it quick, though. I've already been gone longer than I meant to be. Ivan will be waiting for me. I'm supposed to guide him through a meditation tonight."

"You can't rush eating a slider," Anakin said. "You have to savor every mouthful. What's more important, food or meditation?"

"To each their own time." Obi-Wan began quoting Master Rona-Ban: "To the needs of the body, a Jedi gives due consideration, but when the hunger is satisfied and the thirst is slaked, he looks to the Force for-"

"Oh, stuff Master Rona-Ban," Anakin said impatiently. "He never had one of Dex's sliders."

They laughed together as they trooped back through Dex's kitchen, surrounded by boisterous cooks and customers. Dex shouldered his way through the crowd to give Obi-Wan and Anakin each an enormous grin and a hearty slap on the shoulder, nearly knocking them into the bubbling vats with his enthusiasm. Obi-Wan suspected this wouldn't be the last race Dex hosted behind his diner, although it would certainly be difficult for anyone to top Anakin's performance.

They returned to the dining area and the crowd slowly dispersed, the customers returning to their tables and the cooks disappearing back to their stations, Dex promising to make Anakin's slider himself - "with double special sauce!" Anakin called out as Dex squeezed himself through the swinging doors back into the kitchen.

In the comparative quiet that settled through the diner now, the HoloNet transceiver playing in the corner was suddenly made audible. One of the local news channels was playing, and a brilliant flash of orange on the screen caught Obi-Wan's eye. It looked like there had been some type of explosion on a landing pad. It wasn't all that uncommon for cloud cars to meet their fiery end in the skylanes of the Republic's capital world, despite the Coruscant Traffic Control's best efforts to permit only highly qualified pilots to fly them, but something about this explosion caught and held Obi-Wan's attention: the highly mirrored surface of the sleek ship being swallowed in flames. Chromium plating was very expensive, and typically only used by royalty. There must have been a high-profile citizen aboard, which would explain why the accident made the news. Obi-Wan strained to hear through the chatter of the diners around him, and was stunned to hear the woman on the screen say: "... identified as a J-type diplomatic barge. Senator Amidala is believed to have been on board, as she was due to arrive on Coruscant today in time for the imminent vote on the Military Creation Act."

"What did that say?" Anakin asked Obi-Wan, startled, and he too spun around to look at the HoloNet screen.

"As Amidala is the leading member of the act's opposition, there is already speculation that this may not have been an accident," the report continued. "However, official sources have not yet released a statement concerning the cause of the explosion. Coruscant Security forces are investigating on the scene as we speak."

Anakin abruptly stood, not taking his eyes from the screen, and moved closer so he could hear better. Obi-Wan followed him.

The screen continued to show the explosion from various angles, captured from vidfeeds installed on the surrounding buildings, as the woman's voice continued: "Three E2-T shuttles arrived within minutes of the explosion and carried six passengers to the Galactic Senate MedCenter on Hospital Plaza, less than a mile from the scene. Hospital officials have not issued a casualty report."

The reporter moved on to enumerating the nearby skylanes and landing platforms that were now closed as a result of the incident. Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin, concerned. While Senator Amidala's fate would have an important political impact, Obi-Wan admitted to feeling a certain amount of personal concern for her as well, after his and Qui-Gon's efforts to protect her during the Invasion of Naboo, but he knew Anakin would feel even more so. Six years after the Naboo Crisis, Padme Amidala had given her personal funds to help secure Shmi Skywalker's freedom, earning Anakin's lifelong gratitude. Obi-Wan knew Anakin and Senator Amidala had even continued to correspond from time to time in the years since, having much in common besides their shared history in those events: both having been thrust into positions of great responsibility at a very young age. Obi-Wan knew Anakin had thought of the strong-willed young woman as a friend even before he became a Jedi, since the time he knew her as Padme the handmaiden and not a planetary queen.

Anakin's face was upturned, light from the screen flickering across his features; he looked ashen. He listened intently until the end of the report.

Obi-Wan put his hand on Anakin's shoulder. Anakin looked across at Obi-Wan, and it was plain to see the fear growing in his eyes.

"Obi-Wan..." Anakin said slowly. "She might have been..." He stopped and swallowed with a dry throat.

"You don't know that," Obi-Wan said quickly. "Early reports like this are always sketchy. She may not have even been on board."

"I have to know," Anakin said hollowly. "I'm going. Will you tell Qui-Gon where I went?" Anakin was already turning, heading for the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Obi-Wan asked, walking rapidly to keep up with him.

"To the MedCenter. To find out what happened!"

"Wait," Obi-Wan put a restraining hand on Anakin's arm, but the Padawan shook it off. "Anakin, you know they won't tell you anything there. You don't have the proper authorization. We'll go back to the Temple. By the time we get there, we may know more."

"I'm not going to just sit around and wait to hear it on the HoloNet," Anakin snapped. "I'll make them tell me." They left the diner and strode out into the plaza, blinking in the bright sunlight.

"Anakin, you know how CorSec gets when Jedi interfere on their turf..." Anakin pressed a button on his comlink to summon an airtaxi.

"I'll go with you," Obi-Wan said.

"No. It'll be better if it's just one. Just go tell Qui-Gon. So he doesn't worry."

"Anakin..."

"It was great to see you, Obi-Wan," Anakin said with finality. After a moment he relented, looked Obi-Wan in the eye and smiled a little. "Really, it was. Wish I could see you more. You make me a little... I don't know, a little less crazy sometimes." He took a step back. "I'll call you if I find out anything, OK?" He turned and strode toward the dedicated airtaxi pads in the center of the plaza.

Obi-Wan stood there helplessly for a moment, and then pulled out his own comlink and called Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon answered in moments. "Obi-Wan. I didn't know you were on Coruscant."

"Did you hear the news?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

"News?"

"Senator Amidala's ship exploded just as it arrived in the Ambassadorial Sector. Less than an hour ago."

There was a short silence. "I better find out if Anakin knows."

"He does. He was just with me. He's going off to the Galactic Senate MedCenter to see if he can find out what happened. They aren't releasing the casualty report yet. I couldn't stop him from going. Do you want me to follow him?" In the distance, Obi-Wan saw an airtaxi landing near Anakin.

Over the comlink, Obi-Wan heard Qui-Gon sigh. "No, thank you. I'll meet him there. Thank you for letting me know."

"You're welcome."

Qui-Gon ended the transmission. Obi-Wan watched as Anakin boarded the airtaxi and it swept up into the sky. Within moments, it had disappeared into the crowded skylanes.

"Always on the move," Obi-Wan murmured. Then he sighed and headed toward the airbus terminal on the south end of the plaza. He'd better go home. His Padawan would be waiting for him.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A burst of wild laughter was the first thing Obi-Wan heard as he opened the door to the quarters he shared with his Padawan. He stepped into the common room and did not know whether to smile or groan as he surveyed the scene: the room that had been spotless that morning when they returned home from the field was now a chaotic mess. The sofa was draped with Jedi robes and towels, the tables were littered with training remotes and lightsabers and glasses of muja juice, and the floor was cluttered with bowls full of nutshells. The speakers in the corner were blaring shuuderup music - not exactly Obi-Wan's taste - so that no one in the room had even noticed him come in.

Ivan Bal-Tova was stretched out on his back on the sofa; his close-cropped black hair still looked damp from showering after his workout, and the long Padawan braid laying across his chest was freshly braided and tied off with a red bead.

His friend, Seddwia Juro, was sitting on the floor, leaning against an easy chair, holding a bowl of pirki nuts in her lap. Like Ivan, she was in her early twenties and getting ready for the final phase of her training. Obi-Wan watches as she pried open a nut with her fingernails and tossed it in a high arc toward Ivan, who easily caught in his mouth and then pumped his fist in the air triumphantly as he chewed it up. Seddwia whooped with approval at the catch, and so did the other girl in the room, a Pyn'gani Jedi named Nalia Lascol. Nalia, who was several years younger than the other two, was sitting crosslegged in the easy chair behind Seddwia, deftly weaving her friend's long brown hair into some complicated kind of plait.

The three Padawans were laughing in the giddy way that good friends do when they haven't seen each other in a long time and find themselves growing ever more absurd with the much-needed release of tensions acquired in long months of missions. It was a familiar sight. Obi-Wan could remember any number of such pleasant reunions with his own friends when he was younger. Then again, with friends like Garen and Bant, even now their gatherings could get more than a little undignified...

Seddwia tossed another nut in Ivan's direction, but quick as a flash Obi-Wan snatched it out of the air with two fingers, leaving Ivan laying there with his mouth open, looking up in utter bemusement.

"What in the name of Bron!" he exclaimed, sitting up and staring at his Master. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough, my distracted young Padawan," Obi-Wan said, popping the nut into his mouth. "Next time, pay attention. Use the Force. Think." He grabbed a cushion and threw it at Ivan, who caught it just before it hit his nose and whirled it right back to Obi-Wan, who barely managed to dodge before it hit him.

"Pay attention yourself, Master," Ivan teased.

"Hello, Master Kenobi," Seddwia said, meeting his eyes and giving him a pleasant smile. Technically, she should have stood up and bowed to him, but since her hair was currently wound in a complicated web of strands around Nalia's fingers, he couldn't really blame her for not wanting to move.

Nalia couldn't say anything, since she had just caught in her mouth the next nut Seddwia had tossed in her direction, and she couldn't wave because her hands were full of hair, so instead she settled for giving Obi-Wan an apologetic smile. Obi-Wan nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging way, having no inclination to insist on protocol in a casual setting like this.

"So, uh, we sort of took over the place while I was waiting for you," Ivan said. He smiled a little sheepishly and stood up, brushing nutshell dust off his knees and glancing around at the mess as if just now noticing it.

"So I noticed," Obi-Wan said, but he was smiling tolerantly as he accepted the brief hug Ivan gave him. "How did the sparring session go?"

"We beat him," Seddwia answered before Ivan could.

"Well, yes, when it was two against me," Ivan said with some amusement. "Now tell him what happened when Nalia and I took you on."

"Master Kenobi doesn't want to hear about that," Seddwia said. "It would make a boring story. It's much more interesting to tell him how you looked after we cornered you at the top of the training tower and you fell off the struts."

"I didn't fall, I jumped!" Ivan glanced at Obi-Wan. "I was going for the ropes - I was going to swing out and around and try to split them up - but the wind jets turned on at the worst moment and I didn't quite make it."

"Same difference," Seddwia said. "Either way, it meant a forfeit. We won, you lost."

"Don't listen to her, Master Kenobi," Nalia jumped in, having finally managed to chew up the nut and swallow it. "She isn't telling it right. Ivan actually held us off for a long time. And inflicted some damage too, I might add."

"Just no killing blows," Seddwia said serenely.

"Until the next match," Nalia said, "when he landed two on you."

"Says Ivan," Seddwia said.

"You killed her twice in one match?" Obi-Wan asked Ivan, puzzled.

"She said the first one didn't count," Ivan said, and he laughed.

"It was a glancing blow!" Seddwia said firmly.

"No, it wasn't," Ivan said.

"Yes, it was!"

"I didn't see it," Nalia said quickly, to stave off further argument. "So we had to just keep going."

"I see," Obi-Wan said. He caught Ivan's gaze for a moment, and saw that his Padawan was looking at him with a sudden concern darkening his brown eyes.

Ivan opened his mouth, and Obi-Wan knew in a moment that he was going to ask if everything was all right. He should have known he wouldn't be able to hide the disquiet he was feeling. Not from Ivan. Between the Master-Padawan bond they shared in the Force and Ivan's natural empathy, it was difficult for Obi-Wan to keep to himself any strong emotions he felt, and he usually didn't feel inclined to try, anyway. His relationship with Ivan was a comfortable one and they could usually discuss anything with each other.

Still, he wasn't in the mood to talk about the explosion of Senator Amidala's ship with Ivan's friends in the room, so he quickly curtailed Ivan's question with a small shake of his head, and Ivan caught his drift and didn't say anything. Instead, he started to tidy up the common room a bit, and the girls got the hint and helped him as soon as Nalia had finished braiding Seddwia's hair.

Ivan saw his friends to the door, and when the farewells were over and the girls had left, he came back into the common room and sat down on the sofa next to Obi-Wan. He didn't say anything, but waited patiently, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. Just visible hanging on a fine silver chain around Ivan's neck was the stone Qui-Gon Jinn had given Obi-Wan for his 13th birthday. Although it was only a rock with no intrinsic value, young Obi-Wan had treasured Qui-Gon's gift for the reminder it gave him of his Master's kindness in choosing him for an apprentice despite his flaws - and over time it came to stand as a symbol of the mutual respect and affection that eventually developed between Master and Padawan. The stone - which Qui-Gon had found in the River of Light on his own homeworld long before he met Obi-Wan - was irregular in shape and black in color, shot through with streaks of red. Once, Obi-Wan had become convinced that the stone held Force-powers when it seemed to give him strength during a forced medical procedure he had endured while a prisoner of the Syndicat. Although the stone had never again done anything unusual while in Obi-Wan's possession, that belief was confirmed decades later, shortly after Obi-Wan had given the stone to Ivan Bal-Tova the day they were officially made Master and Padawan. As Ivan and Anakin did battle with a slaver, the boys had failed to coordinate their attacks properly and Anakin's lightsaber had struck Ivan in the chest. The blow should have killed him, but against all reason the so-called ordinary stone around Ivan's neck had halted the blazing hot plasma blade, saving his life. Various Jedi Masters had inspected the stone since then, and Ivan himself had tried any number of ways to trigger the stone's powers for use in Force-healing, his chosen focus of study, but it seemed that once again the stone had gone quiet. Still, Ivan wore it all times, ostensibly so he would have it close at hand in case it again exhibited some type of power, but Obi-Wan had a feeling he wore it for sentimental reasons as much as anything. And this seemed perfectly right and good to Obi-Wan. The stone reminded him not only of his affection for his apprentice, but also for his former Master. He didn't see Qui-Gon much anymore, busy as he was with Anakin Skywalker's training, but between the presence of the stone around Ivan's neck and the presence of Qui-Gon's wisdom in Obi-Wan's mind, it often felt as though Qui-Gon were still with him.

Ivan was still waiting patiently, so Obi-Wan took a breath and explained briefly what he had seen on the HoloNet: That Senator Amidala's ship had been engulfed in flames moments after settling on a landing pad in Coruscant's Ambassadorial Sector, presumably there to deliver Naboo's representative for the crucial vote on the Military Creation Act.

"Then you still don't know her condition?" Ivan asked, looking as concerned as Obi-Wan felt. He had had the opportunity to meet Senator Amidala briefly about five years ago, back when she was still Queen, when he accompanied Obi-Wan to Naboo to recruit her help in freeing Shmi Skywalker, and he had been impressed then by her poise and her kindness.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It hasn't been reported on the HoloNet yet, anyway. Anakin went to the MedCenter to see if he could wring any information out of CorSec or her staff, but I'm not optimistic he'll be able to get anything."

"Anakin?" Ivan repeated, taken aback. "You saw him today? I thought you went to Dex's."

"I did. He was there too."

Ivan paused a moment. "You didn't say you were going there with Anakin."

A new note had crept into his voice, if he had known it, and Obi-Wan didn't miss it. Against his better judgment he felt a surge of defensiveness. Surely Ivan was not going to start this again. "I didn't go there with him. He just happened to be there."

"Oh." Ivan relaxed incrementally. "OK. I guess he was pretty upset. About Senator Amidala, I mean."

"Yes. Qui-Gon went to meet him at the MedCenter. I'm sure they'll call if they find out anything. In the meantime, you and I have work to do."

He watched Ivan carefully, and was pleased to see that after taking a few breaths and exercising a quick burst of control, Ivan put the distractions of their conversation aside and prepared for the meditation they had planned for tonight.

Together they went through a simple exercise to quiet their minds and ease their consciousnesses into the strong currents of the Force that flowed through the Jedi Temple, amplified by the proximity of hundreds of other Force-sensitives, many of whom were actively touching the Force just as they were. In this state of mind, their thoughts and feelings rose to the surface of their awareness as clearly as articulated words, each one as distinct and transparent as a crystal in a chandelier, or drops of water descending down from a great height. The light of the Force illuminated those thoughts, revealing the crystalline flaws in every darker instinct, and the purity in each selfless impulse.

"We are approaching the final phase of your training," Obi-Wan said quietly. "You've been making steady progress in your training and before too long, you may be asked to face some or all of the Trials."

He felt a pulse of fear from Ivan.

"It's all right to be worried," Obi-Wan said. "I am, too. This will be a test for me as well as for you. You are unproven as a Knight, and I am unproven as a Master."

Wry amusement from Ivan. "Wonderful. We can stand before the Council and tremble together."

"It's likely that not all the Trials will come at the hands of the Council in a formal test," Obi-Wan pointed out. "While some, such as the Trial of Skills, are best conducted in a controlled setting where you will be observed by the Masters, others depend on conditions of real danger and are difficult to effectively administer."

"Such as?"

"The Trial of Flesh, for example. A Jedi must be capable of enduring great personal loss and respond in an appropriate way. Such a test is likely to be delivered by life itself, sooner or later. We live in a galaxy where pain and death are all too common."

"I'm not afraid of pain," Ivan said quietly.

In other Padawans, Obi-Wan would have suspected such a statement to be pure bravado, but experience told him that in Ivan's case it was generally true. Perhaps it was due to his training as a Healer, but Ivan had proven any number of times that he could bear physical injuries with remarkable patience. Having seen and even felt the pain of so many others as he worked to heal them in the Force, it was perhaps easier for Ivan to accept his own suffering.

"Many Padawans have passed the Trial of the Flesh after receiving a serious wound and managing to overcome the pain well enough to complete the tasks assigned to them," Obi-Wan acknowledged. "Perhaps this will be your fate. Or perhaps not. What of the other possibility? What of loss?"

Uneasiness tinged Ivan's presence in the Force. "You mean death? Of someone I care about?"

"Possibly. Although loss can take other shapes. Sometimes we discover that the people we trust or admire are unworthy. Betrayal and disappointment can be a kind of loss. Or to be denied the pleasure of a friend's company, when time or distance or circumstances require that we be separated from them." Obi-Wan felt at his own words the inevitable pang he still felt whenever he thought of what he had given up for the sake of his duties as a Jedi, and he permitted the sadness to color his thoughts for a moment, accepting the familiarity of his pain and then releasing it into the Force. He no longer wondered when he would stop mourning the loss of Siri Tachi, because he knew now that he never would. Although he still saw Siri from time to time in the Temple and even occasionally shared a mission with her, by mutual agreement they restricted their relationship to friendship. As much as they might wish for more, it could never be. Yes, he knew all too well what it was to face a trial of the flesh.

"So sooner or later I will have to lose someone..." Ivan murmured. He sounded uneasy.

"Experiencing the loss is only the first half of the trial," Obi-Wan said. "The other half is responding to it appropriately. Many respond to loss by withdrawing, or becoming angry, or losing hope and succumbing to despair. It is the task of a Jedi to overcome these tendencies."

"But don't we respond in those ways because we care for others so much?" Ivan asked. Intensity colored both his voice and the vibrations he cast within the Force. "How can I bring myself to a point where I don't care if I lose the people I'm closest to? I could never be so cold."

"It isn't a question of not caring," Obi-Wan said. "It has more to do with reaching an understanding of what the Force wills, and of submitting your will to the will of the Force. Sometimes it will be the will of the Force that someone you love will be taken from you. You must see beyond your own desire for the pleasure of their company. Of course you will mourn whenever you lose a friend; compassion is central to a Jedi's life. Don't lose sight of the larger picture. The Force has a great destiny in mind for each of us. Sometimes we cannot reach our full potential without having our limits tested. Those who learn to endure a loss with humility will come out a stronger person in the end."

"I don't know, Master," Ivan said slowly. "I don't know if I understand this concept. How can you even know if it really is the will of the Force that a person be taken from you? Why would the Force be so cruel, especially to someone who is already giving so much of themselves in service to the Force? I mean, I sit here, and I think about everyone I care about, and I imagine something bad happening to them," Ivan's words were coming out faster and faster, "and it hurts to even think about it, Master, I can't bear the thought of it actually happening. If I had a choice, I think that I would much rather die myself than lose them and have to live with it!"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Well, if that is the case, then you will pass the Trial of Courage with flying colors... and you will fail the Trial of the Flesh spectacularly."

Ivan fell into a shocked silence, and Obi-Wan waited for his words to sink in. For several long minutes, he watched and waited as Ivan battled with his thoughts, and the Force swirled in a chaotic and muddied storm around him.

At last, when the tremors in the Force had smoothed out somewhat, Ivan spoke again, and his voice was resigned. "What must I do to overcome this, Master?"

"Have you read the treatise of Master Sar Agorn, as I suggested?"

"Yes."

"And the words of Master Phrayan on the subject?"

"Yes."

"Then let us take the time to review their words, and discover what they mean in the context of your own life."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

When Obi-Wan and Ivan were through with their joint meditation, Ivan was drooping with weariness, but it was the good kind of weariness one feels after a long but productive day of work. Obi-Wan thought they had made some progress. They would talk more about it during tomorrow evening's meditations, and in the meantime, there were Ivan's other studies to oversee tomorrow, and additional combat training for him, too.

Ivan headed into his room, yawning, to get ready for bed, and Obi-Wan went into his own room and sat at the terminal to prepare the texts for one of tomorrow's lessons. Right away he saw a notification flashing on the screen, and he opened it.

The message was from Siri, letting him know she'd been summoned back to duty and would be leaving the Temple at 22:00, and that he was welcome to come see her and say goodbye before she left. Obi-Wan glanced at the chronometer and jumped to his feet in dismay - that was only 15 minutes from now.

He went back out into the common room, pulled his robe on and stuffed his feet into his boots. Ivan heard the noise and came out to see what was happening.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

Obi-Wan explained quickly that he needed to hurry to catch Siri before she left.

"I'll come too," Ivan offered, trying to look more alert. "I just need to grab my boots."

Although Ivan liked Siri well enough after having shared several missions with her, Obi-Wan knew the real reason Ivan was making the offer. He had never told Ivan of the history between himself and Siri, but as empathetic as Ivan was, he had to have guessed at least some of it. In particular he had picked up on Obi-Wan's reluctance to be alone with Siri in a social setting, when there was no work to concentrate on and keep awkwardness at bay. Ivan had become quite good at finding reasons to stick around in such situations, which Obi-Wan was grateful for. But tonight it didn't seem necessary. He would only be seeing Siri for a moment.

"You don't need to do that," Obi-Wan said after a moment's thought. "You look half-asleep already. Go to bed and get some rest."

Ivan studied him for a moment, gauging how sincere the request was, and then nodded. "All right. Tell her goodbye for me."

"I will. Sleep well."

"See you in the morning."

Obi-Wan walked the corridors at a fast clip, passing the occasional Jedi dressed much like him in flowing brown robes, the figures distinguishable one from another by their size and shape and gait. He walked on, past classrooms silent and empty for the night, past rows of small meditation chambers with the doors shut to maintain peace and privacy for the occupants, past indoor gardens filled with leafy plants and the soft soothing sounds of falling water.

It took him only a few minutes to reach Siri's quarters, where she lived alone since her Padawan, Ferus Olin, had resigned from the Jedi Order six years ago. Siri was coming out with a bag over her shoulder just as he turned the corner. She wore a practical flight suit, as was her custom, and her blonde hair was tied back in a simple ponytail.

"Oh, there you are!" she said, spotting Obi-Wan and giving him a surprised smile. "I thought I was going to miss you. You can walk me to the hangar."

"I'm glad I caught you. So, where to this time?" Obi-Wan asked, taking her bag onto his shoulder and falling into step with her.

"Karthakk system. The Neimoidians have a strong presence there and there are rumors that they've been testing some kind of biological weapon there. Apparently they missed the memo that that's illegal." Siri rolled her eyes expressively. "Anyway, Adi's been assigned to investigate, and she recruited me to help." Jedi Master Adi Gallia, who currently served on the Jedi Council, was also Siri's former Master.

"Be careful," Obi-Wan said. "The Neimoidians aren't likely to cooperate with any of your requests."

"We have some allies that should be helpful. Ever heard of the Lok Revenants?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "You mean the space pirates?"

"Well, yes, but pirates that hate the Trade Federation. They're led by Captain Nym. You remember him, I'm sure."

Obi-Wan did. A handful of rogue pilots, one of them flying a stolen Scurgg H-6 prototype bomber, had inserted themselves into the Invasion of Naboo without bothering to ask the Naboo for permission to enter the system, or even inform them. They had managed to steal themselves a sizable load of munitions from the Trade Federation's ships, but in the process they had also done a fair bit of damage to the Federation's forces at the Battle of the Grassy Plains, and in gratitude then-Queen Amidala had offered their leader, Nym, a position in the Royal Naboo Security Forces. He had turned it down, apparently uninterested in ending his life of piracy.

"Nym's people have been harrying the Federation in the Karthakk system for years," Siri continued. "Raids and assaults of all kinds. The Revenants have made some headway, but if the Neimoidians really are testing biological weapons there, well... it's time for the Republic to get involved." She didn't say what they both knew: that if the rumors were true, it would almost certainly mean war. The Senate was in no mood to stand by and watch the Trade Federation invade yet another innocent system like Naboo; the existence of the Military Creation Act was evidence of its waning patience. System after system were threatening to secede from the Republic precisely because of its inability to protect members from threats. If Adi and Siri confirmed the presence of illegal weapons, it could very well be the catalyst that spurred the Senators to finally pass the Military Creation Act. They could not afford to respond to such a scenario in any way that would appear weak, or more systems would leave.

Obi-Wan saw that Siri understood the seriousness of the situation, but in typical Siri fashion she was outwardly unruffled; in fact, her mood was almost merry. She poked Obi-Wan in the side as they walked to the hangar bay.

"You still owe me an explanation," she reminded him.

Obi-Wan's shoulders sagged. He had hoped Siri would forget about that.

"I don't owe you anything," he said defensively.

"Yes, you do. You can't do a silly thing like grow a beard and not tell one of your best friends the reason why."

"Watch me. I don't demand an explanation from you every time you change your hairstyle."

"That's because you're a man, and you don't care about that kind of thing. I'm a woman, and I do care, so let's hear it."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"Yes, Adi tells me all the time. And so do you. So, spill the beans."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Wild reeks couldn't tear it from me."

Siri shrugged nonchalantly. "All right. I'll give it my best guess then. I think it's laziness. You just don't want to have to shave every day."

"That is not true!" Obi-Wan objected strenuously. "For your information, keeping a beard neatly trimmed is almost as much work as shaving!"

"So it's vanity, then?"

"Of course not!" Obi-Wan insisted, but that guess had hit a little too close to the truth, and Siri immediately saw it.

"Ha ha ha!" she gloated. "So that's it! Who are you trying to impress, anyway?"

Obi-Wan growled in annoyance. "It isn't like that!"

"Come on, just tell me, and then I'll leave you alone," Siri coaxed. "Please?"

Obi-Wan stared at the enormous ornate pillar they were walking past, and sighed deeply. Siri was right. If he ever wanted to have peace again, he'd have to tell her.

"You can't tell anyone," he said. "Ever. You have to swear it."

"OK, OK, I swear."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. I won't tell."

"OK." Obi-Wan took a deep breath and searched for the right place to start. "Here's the first thing you need to understand. It was raining."

"All right, so it was raining," Siri said. "So what?"

"So visibility was low. And we had our hoods up."

"We?"

"Ivan and I. We were going to meet with a man one of our contacts said was in the weapons business." Obi-Wan fell silent for a moment.

Siri waited. "And then?" she prompted when he didn't continue.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Visibility was very poor, all right?"

"Yes, you said that." Siri was grinning. "This is going to be good, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "So there we are, with our hoods up, and the rain's falling so hard that you can barely see anything. And our man comes out to meet us and starts talking to us. He's trying to convince us that he didn't sell the weapons to the Dentrassi, and we're trying to figure out if he's telling the truth. So we aren't saying anything, just letting him have his say and watching and trying to probe him with the Force to see if he's being truthful. And then I realize, he isn't talking to me. He's directing all his comments at Ivan."

"What?" Siri looked confused. "Why?"

"Because he's taller than me, that's why," Obi-Wan said in an aggrieved tone.

Siri gasped. "You mean, he assumed that Ivan was the Master? And that you were..."

"The Padawan. Yes."

Siri snickered.

"Visibility was very poor," Obi-Wan said loudly.

Siri laughed harder, stopping to lean against a pillar for support.

"I haven't gotten to the good part yet," Obi-Wan said.

"Oh, sorry!" Siri tried to pull herself together. "Go on, then."

"Well, as soon as I realize what's happening, I start saying a few things, just to interject myself into the conversation and let him know I'm the leader. Asking him for clarifications, and so forth. But he's still looking at Ivan when he answers. So I step over closer to Ivan and nudge him to get him to back me up, call me Master or something, and clue the man in. Ivan claims," Obi-Wan paused significantly, "that he misunderstood what I wanted. I have my doubts about that."

"Oh, no. He didn't..."

"Yes, he did. He took the lead and started questioning the man himself. Confirming everything the man had assumed about us."

Siri started laughing again.

"We had to go back and meet with the man two more times," Obi-Wan said, his words growing more clipped. "And we decided we couldn't risk offending him until we'd gotten what we needed from him, so we had to just keep letting him believe that Ivan was the Master."

Siri was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

"Ivan enjoyed himself enormously," Obi-Wan said.

"I bet he did," Siri said.

"I didn't," Obi-Wan added.

Siri laughed some more.

"So, where does the beard come into all this?" she asked at last, making a heroic effort to sober up.

"Well, I stopped shaving the very next day," Obi-Wan said. "I had to find a way to make myself look older, didn't I?"

"You do have a boyish sort of face," Siri said.

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

Siri giggled, and then sighed deeply. "Oh, Obi-Wan. Thank you so much. I needed a good laugh."

"Yes, well, I'm happy to help. Don't forget your promise."

"I won't tell a soul."

They had reached the hangar at the base of the northwest tower. Ships of various shapes and sizes lined the edges of the cavernous room, but before Obi-Wan and Siri could start scanning the room for Adi, the Padawan on duty approached them and directed Siri toward two light interceptors in the far corner. As they got closer, they could see Adi standing in the cockpit of one, leaning over to inspect the astromech droid integrated into the left wing. The starfighters were triangular and sleek, painted in bold swaths of red and white. Obi-Wan had heard a couple of Knights in the refectory talking about them: the Delta-7 Aethersprite, a new model of starfighter commissioned specifically for the Jedi Order. The first shipment had recently arrived and some Jedi were already testing their capabilities in the field. The starfighters contained an advanced communication and sensor array, which made them ideal for reconnaissance missions, but they were also equipped with a pair of laser cannons to facilitate more... aggressive negotiations when necessary. Obi-Wan glanced over and saw Siri's eyes light up as she realized she was going to get to fly one. He suppressed a smile. Siri had always loved to fly.

Adi looked up and greeted them both with a smile, although she immediately followed it up by informing Siri that she was late.

"It was my fault," Obi-Wan said quickly. "We got to talking, and I distracted her."

"Siri doesn't need distractions to be late. She manages to do it all the time, no matter what the circumstances," Adi said, although she seemed more amused than annoyed. After so many years of working with Siri, it seemed she had learned to tolerate many of her quirks.

Adi started showing Siri the various features of the Aethersprite. Obi-Wan stuck around for a few minutes to help Siri admire the sleek little interceptor, but before long Adi and Siri were ready to go and they all made their farewells. Obi-Wan stood back and watched the pair of them lift off and then rocket away into the sky. He forced himself not to worry. His natural connection to the unifying Force was giving him hints that this could be an eventful mission for Siri, but he reminded himself that she was a more-than-capable Knight. She could take care of herself, and Adi would be there to back her up.

Obi-Wan headed back through the corridors, which were nearly empty now due to the lateness of the hour. He began mulling over how he would tackle Ivan's combat training tomorrow, but he hadn't made much progress when a familiar sensation crept across his Force-awareness and broke his train of thought. He slowed his pace, and then halted by a stone pillar, listening, but not with his ears.

Yes. Yes. It was indeed Qui-Gon's presence he was sensing. Although Obi-Wan had long ago severed the training bond they shared in the Force, in the intervening years they had slowly but surely forged a new bond - one less familiar, perhaps, and more subtle, but one that suited their changed relationship as equals rather than master and apprentice.

A second sensation came close on the heels of the first - Anakin, too, was near. The vibrations he cast in the Force were impossible to miss for any Force-sensitives who had the gift to pick up on them, unless Anakin was actively trying to mask them. The Force didn't so much announce Anakin's presence as shout it.

Obi-Wan considered his options for a moment, and then decisively turned back and began hunting for the source of the Force-vibrations. He was eager to hear what, if anything, Qui-Gon and Anakin had learned about Senator Amidala's fate while at the MedCenter.

It only took a few minutes to find them. His senses led him, not back to the main hangar, but to a small corridor leading into the Temple from one of the many retractable landing pads located all over the facade of the Temple. As Obi-Wan rounded the corner, he saw Qui-Gon and Anakin entering the Temple, their robes pulled close around them against a cold wind, while a public transport behind them lifted off the landing pad and blasted away into the night. A blast door sealed itself shut behind them and the howling of the wind abruptly ceased. Qui-Gon and Anakin pushed back their hoods.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said quietly. "It's good to see you again."

Obi-Wan nodded. "And you. I hope you're well?"

"Well enough." Qui-Gon glanced at Anakin, who looked tired but, Obi-Wan thought with a sudden warmth of hope rising in his chest, not desolate.

"Have you heard any news?" he asked Qui-Gon.

"Some good and some bad," Qui-Gon said. "We've learned that Senator Amidala was not harmed in the explosion that destroyed her ship. She's preparing to go before the Senate in the morning to make her case against the Military Creation Act."

Obi-Wan breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "That is good news."

Qui-Gon nodded in agreement, but his eyes were sad. "Unfortunately, there were casualties. Four of her security team perished, and also one of her handmaidens, who was acting as a decoy."

Obi-Wan was silent a moment, and then said, "I am very sorry to hear that." He shook his head slowly from side to side. "Very sorry." Briefly he wondered if any of the victims had been among those he knew during the Blockade of Naboo. Images of Amidala's people flashed in his mind: her uniformed security volunteers, lacking in experience but rich in honor and strength; and her handmaidens, young and beautiful and innocent, and yet fearless in defending the Queen they loved. Which of them had been taken? Which had given not only their loyalty but now their very lives for Padme Amidala?

Obi-Wan swallowed, and asked: "Did they find the cause of the explosion?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "A bomb, planted on the landing pad beforehand. They don't know yet how it was done. The planned landing site had been kept secret for the sake of the Senator's safety and privacy. It should have been secure."

"Then this was the work of a sophisticated assassin," Obi-Wan said. "Has the bomb been analyzed?"

"An intensive investigation is underway now," Qui-Gon said.

"Not nearly intensive enough," Anakin said, speaking up for the first time. His voice was slightly hoarse as though through overuse, but it was impossible to miss the bitterness in his statement. "You could hardly tell CorSec wanted to catch the killer."

"Anakin, they are doing their jobs in the best way they know how. You know they have procedures they have to follow," Qui-Gon said in flat and measured tones, which suggested to Obi-Wan that he was witnessing a continuation of a previous conversation on this particular topic. "They can't simply hand over their information to a representative of another agency without going through the proper channels."

Anakin brushed this aside with an irritated wave of his hand. "I think even CorSec has the brains to know that the help of a Jedi might mean the difference between success and failure in an investigation like this. Padme's an influential Senator. She's the head of the opposition to the Military Creation Act. Obviously this isn't the work of some small-time local criminal. Whoever ordered her assassination has a stake in the Act. And they're rich or powerful. Probably both. They're going to need us on this investigation, and the sooner, the better!"

"You may be right, but it's too soon to know who wanted her dead, or why," Qui-Gon reminded Anakin. "We can't simply leap to conclusions. If the Order is invited to become involved, that will be a decision for the Council to make."

"Yes, wonderful, let's all wait for the members of the Council to sit around and look wise and ponder the portents in the flow of the Force, while someone who wants to kill Padme is running around loose in the galaxy!" Anakin snapped.

"Anakin." Qui-Gon's tone was steely. "As we have discussed many times, the lines of authority in the Republic, and in the Order, exist to serve as a check and a balance to prevent anyone from holding too much power or going rogue. We will not go through this exercise again. You must learn to control your impulses, and place more faith in your elders."

Anakin flinched visibly at Qui-Gon's rebuke, and fell silent. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably, feeling suddenly that he was intruding on what should have been a private lesson between Master and Padawan. Qui-Gon had rarely spoken so sharply to him during his own apprenticeship, and on those few occasions Obi-Wan had been so deeply ashamed of himself for provoking such a reaction from Qui-Gon, who normally possessed an almost inhuman calm, that very quickly he had regretted his behavior and gone back to his Master to plead forgiveness and vow that he would do better from now on, if only Qui-Gon would give him the chance.

Now Obi-Wan held his tongue for a moment, in case Anakin wanted to make a similar apology, but Anakin merely stared at the floor, cheeks flushed and lips pressed tightly together. Well, he probably needed time to cool down first. Qui-Gon seemed to think the same thing, because when he spoke to Anakin again, his tone was much gentler.

"I know you're very worried about your friend. This has been a long day and we're both exhausted. Why don't you go and get some sleep, and then we'll see what tomorrow brings."

Anakin looked up at this, and his eyes flashed dangerously again. "But I want-" he began to say, but Obi-Wan, standing just behind Qui-Gon, quickly shook his head in a mute warning, and Anakin paused. He looked from Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan and back to Qui-Gon, and let out his breath uncertainly.

"Fine," he said after a long hesitation. He turned as if to walk toward his quarters, and then looked back at Qui-Gon questioningly. "Aren't you coming?"

"In a while. I have some things I need to discuss with Obi-Wan."

Anakin left.

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, and his eyes were apologetic. "I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of that," he said.

"It's fine," Obi-Wan said.

"Let's find a place to sit," Qui-Gon said.

They walked in silence for a minute, until the small corridor they walked fed into one of the cavernous main halls, and they found a bench placed between two of the massive columns holding up the vaulted ceiling and sat down side by side.

"How are you?" Qui-Gon asked Obi-Wan then.

"Me? All is well. The Council has kept us very busy, this last year and a half. It's good to get a rest."

Qui-Gon nodded. "And Ivan?"

"Fine."

"Training is going well, I hope?"

"I think so, yes."

"Good." Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "I'm glad we happened to be at the Temple at the same time. There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you. It's related, unfortunately, to that display of Anakin's you just witnessed. You may have noticed that he's hit a rough patch in his training."

Obi-Wan nodded, remembering, too, what Anakin had told him earlier that day about the disagreement he'd had with Qui-Gon over his readiness for the Trials. "He's hit the rebellious phase," Obi-Wan said. "We've all had one, I think. At least, I know I did. I was probably responsible for your first gray hairs."

Qui-Gon smiled a little at this. "No, you weren't all that bad, really. We had plenty of disagreements, it's true, but they were mostly civil. But Anakin..." Qui-Gon's smile faded. "He's really struggling right now. Has he said much about it to you?"

"A little, when I saw him earlier today," Obi-Wan said.

"I thought he might. He always goes running to you when he's upset with me."

"I try not to get involved," Obi-Wan said quickly. "I know it isn't my place to interfere with his training."

"I'm not worried about you interfering," Qui-Gon said. "Quite the opposite. I think you may be in a position to help him."

Obi-Wan was surprised. "I'm not sure how. All I do is repeat what you've been teaching him..."

"Exactly. And sometimes he takes it better from you than he does from me. Friendship, he respects. But authority..."

"And does this all stem from his impatience to face the Trials?" Obi-Wan asked.

"No," Qui-Gon said with certainty. "That's only a symptom of the larger problem. He imagines that if he were a Knight, the Council would give him his head and permit him to handle his assignments in any way he sees fit. We both know that's not how it works." He rubbed one hand across his brow, and added with a hint of sourness: "No one knows that better than I do." Obi-Wan realized that Qui-Gon looked tired. And more than just tired. Obi-Wan studied his former Master - taking in his face, lined with more wrinkles than before, and more strands of his hair turned iron-gray, spilling down around his shoulders - and was stunned to realize that Qui-Gon was growing old. He took in a shaky breath and looked down quickly, feeling as though he had committed an invasion of Qui-Gon's privacy to notice such a thing.

And why should he be so startled to see it? He knew Qui-Gon's age - had even thought of Qui-Gon as old when they had first met, although in retrospect he had barely reached middle age at the time. He must have been expecting Qui-Gon to stay exactly the same throughout the years. Absurd, and sentimental as well.

"Well." Obi-Wan cleared his throat and tried to grasp the thread of conversation again. "I'll do whatever I can to help Anakin, of course. You know that. But I'm afraid I won't see him enough to make much a difference, unless your missions and mine start coinciding more. I just went more than a year without seeing either of you."

"I had an idea about that," Qui-Gon said. "What would you think about setting up a fostering arrangement?"

"Fostering?" Obi-Wan repeated, surprised. "You mean, take missions with each other's Padawans? Is that still allowed?"

Qui-Gon shrugged. "There's no rule against it."

"I didn't think it had been done for... what, centuries?"

"About 400 years. The practice fell out of favor, for various reasons, but I don't see any reason why the Council should refuse a request. It's known that the young initiates in the Temple benefit from learning from multiple Masters. They'll see that a Padawan could, too. It would only be on a temporary basis."

Obi-Wan pulled at a loose thread hanging on the edge of his robe. He didn't know what to think. All the plans he'd been making for Ivan's training would have to be rearranged, and he couldn't begin to grasp the element of chaos an arrangement like this would throw into his carefully laid plans. And to be Anakin's teacher... Anakin, who took nothing for granted, who had to test for himself everything he was told... Anakin, who did nothing by halves, who at times wielded the Force in such unexpected and potent ways that much older and wiser Jedi had no idea what to make of him... Obi-Wan couldn't even begin to imagine how he would tackle such challenges while out in the field, away from the support of the Masters here in the Temple. "For how long, were you thinking?" he asked Qui-Gon at last.

"A year."

"A year?" Obi-Wan tried to picture himself being solely responsible for Anakin out in the field for an entire year, and felt a flutter of nervousness hit the general region of his stomach.

Qui-Gon was watching him carefully. "What would you think of that?"

Obi-Wan searched for the right words. "Well, intimidated, to be honest. If you're having trouble controlling him, how in the galaxy am I supposed to do it, and for a whole year?"

"I'm not asking you to control him. I'm asking you to teach him."

"All right, fine, but what are you going to say if he comes back to you at the end of the year and he's even worse?"

"Please don't be ridiculous, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said sternly, and Obi-Wan felt as chastened as if he were a wayward Padawan again. "That's not going to happen."

"You've seen how I am with Ivan," Obi-Wan said. "I'm much too soft with him."

"Maybe softness is what Anakin needs," Qui-Gon said. "But I don't think you're all that lenient. Ivan seems well-disciplined."

"It's just..." Obi-Wan searched for the right words. "I'm not sure why you're asking me. Why not make such an exchange with someone on the Council? Anakin deserves to be taught by a full Master - one who has already successfully trained Padawans, or previously dealt with challenging ones."

"That would be the worst thing that could happen to him right now," Qui-Gon said emphatically. "Don't misunderstand me - I believe they are very capable teachers. But the Council has no faith in Anakin. Most don't believe he is the Chosen One. Some even distrust him. Anakin knows this. You must understand: to him, trust is everything. He will fight to his last breath to serve and protect those he views as his friends. But if he ever suspects someone does not trust him, his loyalty dies."

Obi-Wan could not believe he was hearing this. He did not want to be hearing this.

"You're telling me - he has no loyalty to the Council? And they have no loyalty to him? How can he ever become a Jedi in such a circumstance?"

"He can't. You must bridge the gap between him and the Council. I've tried, but too many on the Council don't know what to make of me, either. There's too much bad history there. But you... they have a great deal of faith in you. Do you know what Yoda calls you, when he speaks of you to others?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"He calls you the Negotiator. And for good reason. It's your gift, to persuade beings to work together, to compromise, when no one else can. You can do this. You can reconcile Anakin with the Council." Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "You don't have to give me an answer right away. Think it over. I think Anakin could benefit a great deal from watching you. You've always been better than I at finding ways to do what is right while still obeying the mandates from the Council. Anakin needs to see that such a balance is possible. Will you think about it?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said slowly. "I'll think about it. But... what about Ivan?"

"I would give him my full attention during the exchange," Qui-Gon said. "I would teach him as if he were my own Padawan. Do you have any special concerns about his training?"

Yes and no. Obi-Wan found it difficult to explain. Out loud, he said, "I know he'll be in good hands with you. I'm not worried about that. But... I'm not sure how he will react to this arrangement."

An untruth. He knew perfectly well how Ivan would react, and it wouldn't be pretty. Though Ivan tried to hide it, Obi-Wan could see how much it bothered him every time Anakin came running to Obi-Wan for his advice and his friendship. Ivan was a capable Padawan, and he was mature and sensible enough to work well with Anakin whenever they were asked to share duties, but he couldn't fail to see the disparity between his own abilities and that of the Chosen One. In Ivan's mind, it was bad enough that Anakin had the lion's share of talent and notoriety. He didn't need to monopolize other Padawan's masters as well. Obi-Wan had done what he could to reassure Ivan that no matter how much help and support he offered Anakin, Ivan was and always would be his Padawan, but he wasn't entirely sure the message had sunk in. To agree to what Qui-Gon was suggesting would be to confirm all of Ivan's worst fears.

"Think about it," Qui-Gon said. He stood, brushing the folds out of his robe. "We'll talk more later, and I'll answer any questions you come up with."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Very well. I am... honored you would think of me."

Qui-Gon put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't have asked you, Obi-Wan, if I had any doubts about your ability to teach Anakin. If pride is a fault, then I am deeply flawed, because I'm proud of you, Obi-Wan. It's been a pleasure to watch you grow from my Padawan to my peer. I will enjoy watching you surpass me even more."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

_Author's note: I welcome feedback! Please take a moment to leave a review and let me know what you think, good, bad or indifferent!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next two days passed quickly for Obi-Wan, absorbed as he was in guiding Ivan through meditations, overseeing his additional studies assigned by the full-time teaching staff in the Temple, and introducing him to ever-more advanced combat strategies when they both needed a break from the more stationary pursuits.

It was a blessing to be home, to once again walk in contemplation in the same gardens where he had played as a child, to catch up with many of his peers whom he hadn't seen in years, and to go to sleep in his own familiar bed each night. It was a strange truth that, for an Order known for its fierce and abiding commitment to peace, Jedi Knights themselves only experienced such peace in fleeting moments during a lifetime of traveling the galaxy to fulfill missions full of noise and conflict and danger. This was why a Jedi Knight must have true inner peace, something they could carry with them no matter where they went.

But even inner peace could only go so far. Once in a while, a Jedi must taste the fruits of peace and order and freedom, so as to remember what it was he was striving for every day of his service to the galaxy.

Obi-Wan and Ivan were enjoying one of those moments one evening in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, finding themselves in no hurry to leave the beauty of their surroundings after completing their daily joint meditation. They sat side by side on a meditative bench, watching water cascade down the high stone cleft and fall into a froth spreading out across the central lake. This garden had been established in the Temple so long ago and had been so artfully designed that only upon very close inspection would an observer see the signs that they were inside a room and not in natural surroundings. Even the lights had been designed to mimic sunlight, moving gradually from one side of the room to the other as the day passed, until they dimmed at nightfall and a different set of lights bathed the room in a softer, whiter moonlight. Right now, the sun-lights were beginning to darken from yellow to orange; the garden's version of sunset. Obi-Wan glanced around and saw that the room was slowly emptying as Jedi began to return to their own quarters for the night.

Beside him, Ivan suddenly laughed softly. Obi-Wan followed his gaze and saw that a young initiate, lingering behind her classmates who were filing out of the garden behind their clanmaster in an orderly and dignified way, had stopped to poke a stick into the water's edge. She had just slipped, thoroughly soaking one of her boots in the lake. Furtively she took off the boot and tried to dump as much water out as she could, all the while hopping on her other foot and trying to keep up with the line of students.

Finally, she gave it up as a lost cause and instead sat down on the ground not far from their bench and tugged on the stubborn boot with both hands. As she did so, the rest of the initiates filed past and moved quickly out of sight. The boot firmly on her foot at last, the girl glanced up, realized she'd been left, and quickly scrambled back to her feet, but just as she was about to catch up to her clanmates, she noticed Obi-Wan and Ivan sitting there. A radiant smile spread across her face.

"Master Kenobi!" she cried with pleasure. "You're back!" She ran up to him eagerly.

Obi-Wan smiled back, recognizing the girl now that she was close up, although she was at least an inch taller than the last time he had seen her. Her black hair had been cut in a simple style just above her shoulders, and like most initiates she was dressed plainly in a brown tunic, encircled by a belt.

"Lena," he said warmly. "It's wonderful to see you. Just look at you. You're beginning to look dreadfully grown up." What would she be now, 9? Perhaps 10? She had been a little over a year old when he had delivered her to the Temple for training, and that had been not long before he met Ivan. Obi-Wan had made it a point to check on her progress from time to time, as that had been a special request of her mother's.

"It isn't dreadful!" Lena said indignantly. "I'm almost ready to be a Padawan now!"

"Your teachers said that?" Ivan asked seriously.

"Well... no," she admitted. "But it can't be long now, can it? I've already passed some of my Level 4s!" She listed them proudly: "Swimming, unarmed defense, and galactic history!"

"That's wonderful," Obi-Wan said. "And what about the other subjects? Are you listening to your teachers and studying hard?"

"Mostly," Lena said. "Only... sometimes it's more fun to talk to my friends during study time," she admitted.

Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. "Well, that won't do, will it? There's a time for everything. A time to be with friends, and a time to study. You mustn't try to do them both at once."

"That's what Master Jen said," Lena said sheepishly. "I do try, but sometimes I sort of forget." She quickly changed the subject. "Where have you been, Master Kenobi? Have you had any adventures?"

"More adventures than we knew what to do with," Obi-Wan said, and he and Ivan exchanged grins. "I'll come and tell you all about them sometime, but right now I think you'd better join your clan. They'll be missing you by now."

"I suppose," Lena said, looking crestfallen.

"Good night, then," Obi-Wan said. "I'll see you soon."

"See you," Lena said. "Bye, Ivan."

"Good night, Lena," Ivan said.

Lena straightened her tunic and tried to walk out of the garden in a decorous manner, but even from a distance Obi-Wan and Ivan could hear the squishing sound her boot made with every other step, until at last she had disappeared through a leafy archway.

Obi-Wan and Ivan glanced at each other and grinned. It just so happened that Lena had soaked her foot in the very same spot that Obi-Wan had once dunked the boy Ivan into the water in an impulsive fit of good-natured mischief, and it was only a few weeks after that that he had made the decision to ask Ivan to be his Padawan. Obi-Wan leaned toward Ivan and said very seriously, "You're looking a little dry there, Vanya."

"Don't you dare!" Ivan quickly scooted to the far end of the bench, laughing. "I do not want to walk all the way back to my room soaking wet, thank you very much."

"It would do you good, Padawan. Build character, encourage humility..."

"...generate mirth in everyone who sees me..."

"There, you see, you're already seeing the possibilities."

Ivan opened his mouth to reply, but just then both his and Obi-Wan's comlinks went off simultaneously. As one, they pulled them out and looked at the incoming signals.

"Master Yoda for me," Obi-Wan said in surprise, looking up from his device.

"Me too," Ivan said. They exchanged puzzled glances, and then Obi-Wan pressed the button to accept his transmission.

"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan said.

"Obi-Wan." Yoda's gruff voice over the link sounded crystal-clear, a sure sign the signal originated from within the Temple. "Speak to you and your Padawan immediately, I must."

"He's here with me now," Obi-Wan said.

"Good," came the Grandmaster's reply. "An assignment, we have for you. Urgent, it is. Pack your things, and meet in the northwest hangar, we will."

"Understood." Obi-Wan half-expected further explanation on the nature of the mission, but Master Yoda had already ended the transmission. He and Ivan glanced at each other.

"Whatever happened to, 'Keep your Padawan at the Temple for several months so he can concentrate on preparing for the Trials?'" Ivan asked, but he sounded more intrigued than displeased.

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said, fingering his beard thoughtfully. "But we'd better get moving so we can find out."

They were back at their quarters in a matter of minutes, and each headed straight to his own room to collect his things. Obi-Wan threw a change of clothes into a bag, kicked off his soft-soled boots and took his field boots out of his storage compartment. Across the hall, he could hear the usual bangs and scrapes that accompanied Ivan's search for his gear in the mess he called a bedroom. Just then, a soft chime sounded at the door.

"I got it," Ivan called. Obi-Wan sat down on the bed to pull on a boot. He heard the front door swish open and Ivan say, "Master Qui-Gon. Come in. Uh, we're in a bit of a rush. We've just been called up."

"Yes, I know," Qui-Gon's voice said. "I'm the one who's responsible for getting you called up."

"Oh," Ivan said.

"Come on back," Obi-Wan called out, and in a moment Qui-Gon was there, his own bag already slung over his shoulder. Behind him, Ivan hesitated out in the hall for a moment, but Obi-Wan gestured to him to return to his room and resume packing.

"I thought you and Anakin were asked to protect Senator Amidala," Obi-Wan said as he put on the other boot. So Luminara Unduli had told him yesterday morning, and as a member of the High Council, she would know better than anyone.

"We were, and we did," Qui-Gon said. "There was another attempt on her life last night. Now things have become a little more complicated."

"She's all right?" Obi-Wan asked quickly.

"Yes. An assassin droid managed to penetrate the defensive shielding of her apartment while she slept and fired a projectile at her, but I was able to block it in time."

"And the droid?" Obi-Wan exchanged the lightweight belt he usually wore around the Temple for a more sturdy leather belt and began to check each compartment to be sure all his gear was in place and in good repair.

"Anakin... tracked it down," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan didn't miss the slight hesitation. "What do you mean by 'tracked it down'?"

Qui-Gon pressed his lips together. "He jumped out the window - several miles above the surface - and grabbed the droid in midair, and then it proceeded to drag him for miles through rush-hour skylanes and oversized power couplings and industrial exhaust burns."

Across the hall, Ivan hooted. "Trust Anakin!"

"So did he manage to find out who was controlling the assassin droid?" Obi-Wan asked, stowing a couple of ration bars into a belt compartment.

"Yes and no," Qui-Gon said. "The droid carried him within sight of the bounty hunter standing on the top of a skyscraper, but unfortunately he spotted Anakin at the same moment and blasted the droid out of his hands before he could get close enough to engage. Thank the Force that by that time I was only a few hundred feet below Anakin in a cloud car and managed to catch him in time."

"What did he look like? The bounty hunter?" Ivan asked, coming to stand in the doorway with his pack slung over his shoulder.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Humanoid. Beyond that, it's impossible to say. Anakin said he was in head-to-toe armor. Could have been any number of species, could have been male or female, young or old. Anakin did manage to see one interesting thing, though, as he fell. The bounty hunter took off from the roof using a personal rocket pack. He couldn't have gone far or moved all that fast with it, but we searched and searched the area and couldn't find him after that."

Ivan whistled. "An escape artist, then, as well as a clever killer."

"Ah! That reminds me..." Obi-Wan had been about to leave, but now he turned to open a drawer and grabbed a metallic device, a flattened disc about the size of his palm.

"What's that?" Qui-Gon asked.

"It's a homing beacon, a prototype. Master Daroon gave me this and asked me to try it out if I got a chance. Supposed to have a better range than the old ones. Might come in handy."

Obi-Wan tucked the beacon in with his other gear, and the three of them headed out into the corridors and toward the northwest hangar.

"We're to track down this bounty hunter, then?" Ivan asked Qui-Gon as they walked.

"Yes, in addition to another task," Qui-Gon said, "but I'll let Master Yoda explain about that part when we get to the hangar."

"Do you have any leads?" Obi-Wan asked.

"This," Qui-Gon said, pulling a small object out of a pouch on his belt. Obi-Wan took it, and Ivan leaned over to get a good look.

"The projectile the bounty hunter fired at Senator Amidala?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon nodded. "A toxic dart. I had it analyzed. The analysis droids here at the Temple couldn't tell me much, unfortunately. Just that it had no trade markings and likely belonged to a warrior not affiliated with any known culture. So I took it to one of your contacts, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon smiled sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind. I asked Dex if he'd seen anything like it before. He knows more than a library full of holotexts, it seems. He thought the tech resembled something he'd seen before when he was prospecting at Subterrel; technology being used by a cadre of cloned miners there. He was told the miners had been cloned on a world called Kamino. Heard of it?"

Obi-Wan and Ivan shook their heads.

"Nor has anyone else," Qui-Gon said.

He didn't get a chance to elaborate on just how they were supposed to find a world no one had ever heard of and track down a bounty hunter of unknown appearance, name or culture, because just then they arrived at the hangar. Master Yoda stood waiting for them at the entrance, a diminutive figure leaning on his knobby gimer cane. Despite his advanced age and great wisdom, Master Yoda often showed a lighthearted disposition and was quick to greet old friends with warmth and even a gentle jest, but just now he looked somber, even preoccupied. The ridges on his forehead were contracted with worry, and his clawed hand gripped his cane more tightly than he needed to. Obi-Wan felt the first flickerings of unease. A simple matter of a would-be assassin should not be enough to darken Master Yoda's spirits, not after all he had seen in his long centuries of service to the Jedi Order. He glanced over at Ivan, and saw that his Padawan had grown more alert. He, too, had noticed the change in the Grandmaster.

"Master Kenobi, Padawan Bal-Tova," Yoda said gravely, nodding his greeting to them. "For your speed, I am grateful. Much at stake, there is. Told them, have you, Master Jinn?"

"I explained to them about the bounty hunter, Master, but not the rest," Qui-Gon said.

Yoda nodded. He looked up at Obi-Wan for a moment, and then sighed heavily. "A disturbing discovery we have made, in the course of Master Jinn's search for Senator Amidala's attacker. Coordinates for the planet Kamino, your friend Dexter Jettster provided, but locate the system in our Archive's star maps, we could not. Only empty space. But so much faith Master Jinn has in your friend and his information, that give up searching he did not." Yoda looked expectantly at Qui-Gon, who took up the narrative smoothly.

"I accessed the original records compiled by our Exploration Corps many years ago," Qui-Gon said, "and studied their gravitational data in the area near the Rishi Maze. The information I found made it obvious there is a large mass in that area, pulling all the stars toward the coordinates Dex gave me. There's something there, all right. It just isn't on our star maps."

"But if the ExplorCorps has been in the area, how could they fail to map an entire system?" Obi-Wan asked. In his experience, the corps was reliable to the point of perfectionism, a trait ingrained in all who completed their early education here in the Temple, whether they went on to be apprenticed to Knights or were honorably transferred to service branches such as ExplorCorps, AgriCorps, MedCorps or EduCorps.

"Fail, they did not," Yoda said. "Map the system, I believe they did." He gazed steadily at Obi-Wan, and sorrow touched his eyes. "Tampered with, our Archives have been."

A shocked silence filled the air. They all knew the gravity of what Master Yoda was saying. The Archives were not open to the public. All information was kept in a completely closed database, protected by many layers of electronic protection, both subtle and strong. No one could access it but Jedi physically present in the Temple. It was unthinkable that an intruder could enter the most secure parts of the Temple, get past hundreds of Jedi who were highly attuned to the Force, and access Archive materials without detection. And if it wasn't an intruder, that left only one possibility.

Obi-Wan felt sick. The idea that a Jedi, someone who had sworn oaths, who had passed every test of loyalty and honor the Council could devise, who had committed their life to search out and defend knowledge... how could one of their own have done this? Why? It was unthinkable. It was...

"Impossible," Ivan said. His voice, over-loud, cut through the storm in Obi-Wan's mind. "Impossible. No one could have accessed the star maps except our own. And no Jedi would ever tamper with our own information. It's just... they wouldn't. It's impossible!"

"Impossible, nothing is," Yoda said. "Only improbable."

"If we can't trust our own people, who can we trust?" There was a touch of anger in Ivan's voice. Obi-Wan knew it, felt his own anger bubbling up like an echo of Ivan's. Outsiders often did not understand the depths of trust one Jedi gave to another, even Jedi who had never met each other. But all Jedi shared a common upbringing, a commitment to duty, a willingness to follow the path of the Force no matter where it led them. And the Trials were designed to weed out any initiates who struggled to put the demands of the Order above their own personal desires. So effective were they that, in the thousands of years the Order had existed, only 20 Jedi had ever resigned their commissions after having been granted the rank of Jedi Master - and all of them had left with honor and dignity, in a more or less amicable parting of ways. For a Jedi to betray the very Order that defined him, he might just as well have fallen on his own lightsaber. It was an act of violence against his self.

"Bury your feelings, you must, young one," Yoda told Ivan, his gruff voice tempered by a touch of gentleness. "Our task, it is, to search down to the depths of this mystery, and fear the answers, we must not. Travel to the coordinates of Kamino, you will. If a planet you find, ask permission to search for the bounty hunter, you will. But more than an assassin, you will find, I feel."

"We will not fail you, Master," Qui-Gon said quietly.

"Good." Yoda nodded decisively. He made eye contact with each of them, and then said solemnly, "May the Force be with you all."

So often Obi-Wan had heard these words slip from the lips of his fellow Jedi, sometimes with a speed and carelessness that came from long habit, but when Master Yoda spoke them Obi-Wan felt the words, rather than heard them - felt the truth of them, as though Master Yoda made them true just by saying them. The Force would be with them. Yoda had spoken it.

"May the Force be with you, Master," he answered, trying to put the same feeling into his own words, and thought he had succeeded in capturing a faint echo of Yoda's power. He was rewarded by seeing the smallest of smiles tug at the corner of Master Yoda's mouth as the old Master turned away and began slowly hobbling back into the depths of the Temple, a small lonely figure lost in the depths of its cavernous corridors.

Qui-Gon was already leading Ivan toward their transport. Obi-Wan caught up to them in a few strides and got his first look at the ship: A Corellian YT-1760, one of the Dynne 577 variety that had only been on the market for about a year. Large enough to carry six, these cruisers had considerable speed capabilities and were often upgraded with deflectors and laser cannons, like this one was. The red paint coating the saucer-shaped ship, signifying their ambassador status, was absolutely pristine. Obi-Wan wasn't surprised. For a mission of this magnitude, it was typical to be given the very best of the available equipment. Garen used to joke that you could always tell when a mission would be boring - not by using the Force to look ahead, but by looking to see if you'd been assigned a Seamslider.

The neat Aurebesh lettering by the docking ramp proclaimed the ship's name: Equilibrium.

Qui-Gon touched Ivan's shoulder. "Start up the engines, please. You'll be taking her out."

Ivan was looking at the Equilibrium with a mixture of awe and nervousness. While Ivan was a capable pilot, flying had never been one of his strengths, and Obi-Wan knew he would be privately wondering if it was really a good idea for Qui-Gon to be handing over the yoke of such a new and valuable ship to someone at Ivan's skill level. He stepped closer to Ivan, meaning to murmur a few words of encouragement to him, but before he could say anything, Ivan's expression cleared on its own and the creeping fear that had been tainting his presence in the Force quietly dissipated, like a soft rain washing away an impurity in the air.

Obi-Wan stepped back, feeling abruptly disoriented by the sudden change in Ivan's emotions and, of all things, slightly disappointed. He silently remonstrated himself for such foolishness. Wasn't it better that Ivan be able to deal with his own shortcomings without constant guidance from Obi-Wan? What was the use in clinging to the days when Ivan had needed so much more of his attention? He should be proud of Ivan's progress. And he was. But still he felt a little of the emptiness linger as he boarded the ship and stowed his bag in the storage compartment.

It was then, glancing back down the ramp, that Obi-Wan realized that Anakin had still not shown up. He had been expecting the Padawan to join them at some point after Yoda's briefing, but apparently his assumption had been wrong.

"Where is Anakin?" he asked Qui-Gon, who was watching Ivan familiarize himself with the controls.

"The Council assigned him to accompany Senator Amidala to Naboo," Qui-Gon answered. "They felt that until the assassin is caught, she should continue to have the protection of the Jedi." Obi-Wan didn't miss the closed expression on Qui-Gon's face as he spoke.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this the first time they've given him an independent assignment?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon settled down into one of the rear seats and reached back for the safety harness.

"He'll do very well, I'm sure," Obi-Wan said after a moment's hesitation.

"He's certainly more than capable of protecting a politician," Qui-Gon agreed, but there was something in his tone that did not invite further conversation on the topic.

Obi-Wan wisely dropped the subject and strapped himself into the co-pilot's seat. A glance at Ivan showed he had all systems ready to go.

"Take us out, please," Qui-Gon said. Ivan affirmed, and at the signal from the Padawan on duty, he retracted the docking ramp and took off.

They ascended quickly through Coruscant's atmosphere, guided by Air Traffic Control into the sparsely traveled extraplanetary lanes reserved for the Jedi Order's use while on official business. Obi-Wan was pleased to find that with Ivan at the helm, the Equilibrium handled with a smoothness he had rarely experienced in other ships. It almost seemed to anticipate Ivan's movements, or, on second thought, perhaps its controls were so precisely calibrated that it made it easier for a pilot to anticipate how the ship would move in response to his touch. In any case, Obi-Wan thought, it was a pleasure to be on board, at least here in the security of Coruscant's atmosphere, with no one shooting at them and no Anakin doing reckless things with the ship. That was really his main objection to flying, when it came right down to it.

Upon reaching space, Obi-Wan keyed into the navicomputer the presumed coordinates for the planet Kamino, in Wild Space, beyond the Outer Rim Territories. Ivan slowly pushed forward the hyperspace controls and the stars turned to rays of brilliant light.

Facing forward, the three Jedi hurtled into the star-streaked tunnel that was hyperspace, traveling faster than light toward a vanished planet, the chance to catch an assassin, quite likely a certain amount of danger, and perhaps the answers to all their questions.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

_A/N: Thank you to those who are leaving reviews! It really helps me judge whether I am on the right track with the story._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Anakin was sorry when the passenger transport landed among the green fields on the outskirts of Theed, the capital of Naboo. The last few days with Padme had been nothing short of perfection and he hated to see it end.

Since the Invasion of Naboo, one of Anakin's greatest joys had been receiving communications from Padme. Sometimes they were few and far between, due to their busy schedules, but even at a distance Padme had been a friend to him in a way none of his fellow Jedi students had been.

His only hope for this trip was that spending time with Padme in person would be as delightful as her messages had been all these years, and his expectations had been far exceeded. The others on the transport kept to themselves for the most part, so he had her all to himself for days and he found her to be just as gentle, considerate and thoughtfully intelligent as he remembered. She also wasn't afraid to tease him or even firmly disagree with him when he dared to state one of his opinions about politics. She really kept him on his toes then. And it didn't hurt that all of these conversations were accompanied by long opportunities to drink in the loveliness of her eyes, her flawless skin, the carefully chosen outfits that accentuated her figure and brightened the whole room with their intriguing colors and textures. So much more interesting than the sea of brown and white he saw back home in the Temple.

He tried not to let her see him watching her, but sometimes he forgot to be careful and he thought she noticed. But she never said anything, just cast her eyes down and smiled ever so slightly and then went on with what she was doing. She must be used to people staring at her. She must be noticed everywhere she went, even when she was wearing civilian clothes and not the formal robes of office. How could anyone fail to see her beauty? How could anyone get any work done when she was in the room? Anakin had brought along some texts he was supposed to study when he had the time, but he found he could not get through more than three or four sentences before he went right back to staring at Padme, or trying to draw her into a conversation. Eventually he gave up studying. It was worth a lecture or two from Qui-Gon. Surely his Master wouldn't begrudge him a little downtime to catch up with an old friend.

But now the journey was over. Together, Anakin and Padme boarded a sleek trolley that took them swiftly into the heart of Theed. Padme's parent lived near the palace, having moved there from their isolated mountain village home when Padme was 7, and they had stayed there ever since. Anakin vaguely remembered meeting Padme's family after the parade celebrating the defeat of the Trade Federation and Palpatine's election as Chancellor, 10 years prior, but he had been so excited by the prospect of finally becoming a Jedi that he had not paid much attention to anything else.

Anakin knew Padme was very close to her family and he had a feeling that as a result, his monopoly on her time was about to come to an end. He tried not to sulk, but still, the beauty of Theed was lost to him as they stepped onto the train platform and prepared to walk the rest of the way.

Padme, on the other hand, was growing more excited by the minute, waving and exchanging pleasantries with every neighbor they passed, all of whom knew Padme by name, and then telling Anakin in an undertone who they were and what family they came from and what they did for a living. Despite himself, Anakin felt that her enthusiasm was catching.

"Here we are!" Padme said breathlessly, her cheeks pink with excitement as she rounded a rustic stone wall and gestured up a set of stone stairs guarded by urns overflowing with red flowers. "Home!"

Anakin was surprised to see that it was not an enormous nor ostentatious home, although the exterior was impeccably maintained and there were feminine touches everywhere, from the curtains framing every window to the flower pots tucked into every nook and cranny.

"Come on!" Padme said, pulling Anakin up the steps. She pulled the bell strap by the front door and shot Anakin a mischievous look as they waited for an answer.

A dark-haired woman came to the door, a little older than Padme perhaps, and stared open-mouthed at the two of them for a moment before exclaiming, "Padme, you sneak! You told us not until tomorrow!"

The two women broke into peals of laughter as they fell into each other's arms, talking over each other in their eagerness. Finally Padme pulled away and said, "Anakin, this is my sister, Sola. Sola, this is Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Padawan. You remember him, right?"

Sola smiled as she shook Anakin's hand. "I remember you being just a little shorter than this!" she said, looking up at his new inches with admiration. "I suppose I might have expected that!"

"Aunt Padme!" a little voice shrieked from inside, and then another little voice chimed in: "Aunt Padme!"

"I'll go find Mom," Sola said, and left the room, nearly getting run over by two little girls who tore over to Padme and began smothering her with hugs and kisses.

"Oh girls, it's so good to see you again!" Padme laughed, smoothing their rumpled hair down. "Anakin, there are my nieces, Ryoo and Pooja. Girls, this is my friend Anakin. He's a Jedi."

"Wow!" the taller girl said, staring at Anakin. "Can you show us the Force?"

"Well..." Anakin said slowly. "I'm not supposed to show off, but..." He pulled a credit chip out of a pouch in his belt and held it up. "Want to see me levitate this?"

"Yes! Yes!" the girls shouted.

"All right. Keep your eyes on the chip. I'm going to use the Force, but I need both of you to help me concentrate." Anakin laid the chip flat on the palm of his hand, and nodded seriously to the girls. "Now imagine that the chip is drifting up into the air, supported by nothing but the force you and I are generating with our minds."

A few seconds passed in silence. The girls were concentrating so hard that their little brows were furrowed. Ryoo had her eyes squinched almost shut, she was trying so hard.

Anakin gasped softly. "I think it's working! Look!"

He passed his other hand slowly over the credit chip, and to the girls' delight the chip actually rose up into the air, floated serenely in place for several seconds, and then gradually drifted down.

"Wow!" they shouted, bouncing up and down. "Do it again! Do it again!"

"Sorry, better not," Anakin said swiftly, tucking the chip tightly into his hand. "Master Qui-Gon gets very grumpy when I use the Force frivolously. You won't tell, right?"

"Oh please, do it again!" Pooja squealed. "Please!"

"Now girls, run and get your grandma," Padme intervened swiftly. "You don't want to wear out Anakin's Force powers, do you?"

The girls pouted a bit, but obediently left the room.

"You are in so much trouble," Padme said, shaking her head and grinning at Anakin. "What happens if I tell on you when we get back?"

"Look here," Anakin said. "Hold out your hand."

"What? Why?"

"Just hold out your hand." Anakin dropped the credit chip into Padme's hand and waited expectantly.

Padme gasped. "What in heaven's name?" The chip was now floating over her palm. She held her hand up and looked underneath. It only took a moment for her to realize what was happening. She picked up the chip and looked, bemused, at the V-shaped strip of sheer flimsi the chip was standing on.

"Just flex your palm open and closed a little," Anakin said, and as she did so the chip rose and fell, balanced on its two invisible legs.

"You cheat!" she said, laughing up at him.

"It isn't cheating," Anakin said indignantly, taking the chip back from her. "I told you, I'm not allowed to show off. I have to be prepared for just this eventuality." He leaned close to Padme and said conspiratorially, "The real thing is _much_ more impressive."

"I bet," Padme said. "Come on, let's head for the kitchen. Mom's first instinct when visitors come is to start cooking."

Dinnertime at the Naberries' was a cheerful affair that began long before anyone sat down to eat, Anakin discovered. Padme had hardly reintroduced Anakin to her mother, Jobal, a pleasant woman with smooth brown hair just like Padme's, before Anakin was instantly pressed into service peeling pahnans. Padme's sister Sola was busily clearing her two young daughters' art supplies off the kitchen table while talking a mile a minute to Padme about all the neighboring families' latest doings, which Padme listened to with great attention, with the occasional amused smile directed at Anakin whenever a particularly juice bit of gossip was imparted. Padme's grandmother, Winama, sat at the counter preparing a fruit salad and interjecting quiet comments into Sola's steady stream of chatter. Sola's husband, Darred, had quickly hustled their two small girls outside to pick greens for the salad, "more because we need to hear ourselves think in here, than because they'll actually be of any help to him," Sola said, but the affection she had for her children was evident in her smile.

Jobal was seasoning the meat with a practiced hand and asking Anakin what the life of a Jedi was like. "It sounds wonderfully exciting, but it must be terribly lonely sometimes," was her final pronouncement, after Anakin had given her a succinct description of a Jedi's routine of travel, travel, and more travel, with the occasional brief stop at the Temple for rest and training. Seeing how things were in the Naberrie home, Anakin could well see that loneliness was the least of anyone's problems here.

Padme's little nieces came clattering back into the kitchen with their baskets of greens, one of which was instantly upended onto the floor just as Sola was trying to walk through with a stack of plates. At this auspicious moment, Padme's father, Ruwee, came through the door, returning after his day's work for the Refugee Relief Movement, as Jobal explained to Anakin, and the girls abandoned cleaning the mess on the floor to squeal and jump up and down next to their grandfather with excitement, both trying to speak to him simultaneously about everything they'd done that day. Ruwee grabbed each girl in turn and swung her around, despite Jobal's demands that he take them into the next room to roughhouse, and Sola's demands that the girls return to the kitchen at once to clean up the mess. For the next several minutes, chaos reigned. Then, just as suddenly, it seemed, dishes were set on the table, food was being plated up, and Padme finally found a moment quiet enough to introduce Anakin to her father.

Ruwee was an affable man, with a round, pleasant face, and it didn't take long for Anakin to see that he was very fond of teasing. The two little girls were clearly his favorite targets, and they did their very best to dish it back out to him during the meal, though they were too small to think of anything very clever. But no one was safe from his wit, and Anakin watched with amusement as first one, and then another family member had to defend themselves against his good-natured attacks. The conversation was rife with references to family memories and old jokes, no less funny today, to judge by the merry laughter that filled the room each time they were trotted out. Nor was Anakin left out - Padme and Sola in particular kept trying to explain to him the jokes as best as they could through the noise. Anakin was enjoying himself enormously. It was something like the joy and comfort he had felt as a boy when he and his mother shared a precious hour together at the end of each day before they went to sleep, only multiplied by a factor of 10. Was this how most people in the galaxy lived?

Did they have any inkling of how fortunate they were?

"So, Anakin," Ruwee said, leaning toward him with a telling twinkle in his eye," Were you aware that you are the very first boyfriend Padme has ever brought home to meet us?"

"Dad!" Padme exclaimed, aghast. "He's here to protect me, I told you that!"

"As any good boyfriend should," Ruwee said agreeably. "I would expect no less from the man who dates my youngest daughter."

"Dad!"

"She does seem to need an uncommon amount of protecting," Anakin agreed.

He was gratified by the laughter that followed his remark, and grinned at Padme, who was blushing and yet looked pleased, he thought. He hoped.

Padme pointed a fork at Anakin threateningly. "Don't you join him. Once he starts, he doesn't stop."

"Doesn't stop what?" Ruwee asked innocently. "I'd just like to say that I think a Jedi Knight was an excellent choice. At least I can trust him to behave like a gentleman." He paused significantly, and looked at Anakin. "Right?"

Anakin nodded, and took a sip of punch. "Of course. And if I don't, you may challenge me to a gentleman's duel."

Darred guffawed. "Against a Jedi Knight? Frankly, Anakin, I think the odds may be slightly in your favor."

"Actually, Ruwee might have a chance, if the weapon of choice is a pair of gardening shears," Winama said, cutting up some meat for Padme's youngest niece. "Did you see what he did to that poor jintil tree by the front door? That could be you, Anakin!"

"Slander!" Ruwee protested. "I've never hurt a soul in my life. And I pruned that tree perfectly."

"Padme, you should quit politics and take up gardening," Sola put in. "As I recall, you pruned better than dad does, even when you were 12."

"Yes, why not? I'll inform Chancellor Palpatine of my intentions tomorrow," Padme said wryly. "I'm sure he'll understand."

"Mom, can we go outside?" little Ryoo asked Sola.

"Yes sweetheart, but stay in our own garden this time. It's getting dark."

As the girls left the table and ran out the back door with a clatter, Anakin spoke up. "In all seriousness, Padme would be wasted as a gardener. I think it's wonderful, what she's doing for Naboo, and for the whole Republic. She's worth more than every other politician I've met, combined."

Ruwee smiled, and reached out to touch Padme's cheek. "So she is. We're all very proud of her."

With the girls gone, a rare quiet descended on the room. Then, Padme's mother took a deep breath and lifted her head from her plate, her cheeks flushed, and said to Padme, "But don't you think, dear, that you've served long enough now?"

Padme slowly put her fork down. "Mother, let's not talk about this now."

"When else can we talk about it, dear? You haven't been home for more than a year. You scarcely have time to call."

"We have the Military Creation Act to thank for that," Padme said wearily. "I don't like it anymore than you do. But I have to fight this. It's important."

"I know that, dear," Jobal said gently. "You must do what you think is right. But your term ends in eight months. The fate of the Act will be decided by then. Why don't you announce your intention to retire from politics? Let someone else take up the fight. You've already served 10 years, more than you ever intended to. And you certainly didn't sign onto this thinking that you would be endangering your own life at every turn!" Her voice broke at the last, and she suddenly stopped, with her hands clasped against her lips.

"Mother," Padme said quietly. "I have good people watching out for me. I'm not afraid."

"Well, you should be!" Jobal burst out, the tears beginning to fall. "I am! We all are!"

Anakin wasn't even conscious of having risen to his feet. "Nobody has to be afraid," he said, his voice ringing out into the sudden silence. "Nothing's going to happen to Padme. You have the promise of a Jedi. I will never let anyone lay a finger on her, I swear to you. She's safe with me. Always."

They all stared up at him, wondering where the sudden steel in his voice had come from. For a moment Anakin quailed inside, wondering what he had just promised, and how he could possibly deliver it. He was assigned to protect Padme for now, but what happened when he was sent on the next mission?

Then he knew: it didn't matter. He would find a way. No matter the cost, he would find a way. For Padme. She was worthy of it, as no other woman could be.

He could see Padme's face looking up at him, startled and touched and... what? There was something in her expression he had never seen before. A hunger? A longing? It was gone before he could be sure, and the moment passed.

"Excuse me," Jobal whispered. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she left the room, and a few moments later they heard the click of her shoes on the stairs. After a moment Ruwee excused himself and followed her.

"Well, that went well," Sola said, glancing at Padme.

"What does she want me to say?" Padme cried. "That I'll quit helping people just because it got hard for me personally?"

"Padme, there are other ways to help people," Sola said quietly. "You could rejoin the Refugee Relief Movement and work with Dad. That's important work, too. You could help a lot of people."

"Yes, and if the Military Creation Act passes, there will be no end of refugees to help," Padme said.

Sola sighed, and then stood and began gathering up plates. Darred jumped up to help. After a moment, Padme rose and began to do the same, but Sola stopped her with a hand on her arm. "We'll clean up, sis. Why don't you take Anakin outside and look at the stars?"

Padme stood there by the table, looking lost as her sister and brother-in-law left the room laden with dishes, and Anakin and Padme were left alone. Anakin slowly walked over to her and put his hand on her elbow. Padme came to herself and looked up at Anakin. It struck Anakin, not for the first time, how tiny she was next to him, and he wondered what the universe was thinking, putting such strength of spirit into so small a package. Lost in her eyes, it took him several moments to think of something intelligent to say.

"Can you even see the stars here in the city?" he asked.

Padme smiled a little. "She wasn't just trying to get rid of us, if that's what you mean. Come outside, I'll show you."

She led the way out the back door, where the little girls were gleefully trying to catch in their bare hands the fluttering white insects hovering around the porch lights.

"Ryoo! Pooja!" Padme called from the doorway. "Time to get ready for bed, darlings."

It took a little urging, but eventually the girls obeyed and came tripping inside the house, each pausing at the door to give Padme a tight squeeze.

"'Night, Aunt Padme! Night-night, um..."

"Jedi, Ryoo!" the other girl quickly supplied. "His name is Jedi!"

"Oh! 'Night, Jedi!"

"Goodnight," Anakin said, laughing.

After the girls had disappeared upstairs, Padme switched off the porch lights and led Anakin out into the middle of the garden. Anakin looked up and was surprised to see that you really could see the stars here. Not as clear and bright as on Tatooine, perhaps, but enough to see the diamond-bright dust of even the more distant systems.

"How is this possible?" Anakin asked, turning round to see the whole expanse. "Usually the light of the city blocks out the light of the stars. On Coruscant, I forget there even _are_ stars."

"Artificial light is kept to a minimum here," Padme said. "You know how important natural beauty is to us on Naboo. We made it a priority."

"I don't know how you even managed to get a law like that passed," Anakin said. "Usually the industrialists block legislation like that."

"It isn't a law," Padme said, a trifle surprised. "We didn't need one. Most people choose to do it."

Anakin shook his head slowly. "This place... do you have any idea how fortunate you are? I mean, can you imagine any of the Senators - other than you, of course - _volunteering_ to do anything they didn't have to? Especially if it cut into their profits or their special interests?"

"Not now," Padme said. "Not as things are. Maybe someday. With enough persuasion."

Anakin scoffed. "Really? You think they ever would?"

"I wouldn't be in politics if I didn't have some hope," Padme said. "It works here on Naboo, doesn't it? Why couldn't it work on Coruscant too?"

"I guess," Anakin said. "At least, if anyone could do it, you could."

"You overestimate my abilities," Padme said, nudging him with her elbow. "Not that I mind, mind you," she added teasingly. "Better too much praise than not enough, don't you think?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have praised you at the dinner table," Anakin said cautiously, uncertain whether he should bring it up, but feeling he owed Padme an apology. "I didn't mean to start anything, with your family..."

"Oh, you mean my mother?" Padme said. She glanced back at the house, to make sure they were alone. "Here, let's walk around the garden. Someone may have a window open." They turned together and began walking down the cobblestone path that wound between the rose bushes.

"No, that wasn't your fault," Padme continued. "You couldn't have known. She's been trying to get me to commit to retiring from politics for some time now. You've probably noticed there aren't many career politicians from my world. It's tradition to serve a handful of years and then return to civilian life. You know, start a family, and all of that."

"And you don't want to?" Anakin asked. "Start a family, I mean."

"Yes, I do," Padme said. "Very much. But I'm worried what will happen if the Military Creation Act passes. It would be a bad time to turn my office over to someone new, after I've managed to gather up so many good allies to the cause. I can't promise Mom I'll retire until and unless I've defeated the act. My personal life will just have to wait."

"She was really worried about you."

Padme sighed. "The Invasion of Naboo was hard on her. The Trade Federation told my family I'd been executed, you know. They spent days mourning me before we ended the invasion and I was able to contact them again. Now all these assassination attempts have brought all that back to her. I can't stop her from worrying about me. It's her right, as a mother. And she really wants what's best for me. She worries, too, that I'll wait so long for marriage that all the good ones will have gone. We tend to marry younger, on Naboo, than they do back on Coruscant, you know."

"No way," Anakin said vehemently. "It wouldn't matter if you were a gray-haired lady of 60 when you retired. The men would still be lining up for you."

Padme laughed merrily. "I have no intention of waiting quite that long! I couldn't afford to. I do want children. I'm just a little jealous of my sister, for the children as much as for her good match. I always wanted to be a mother."

"You would be a perfect mother," Anakin said. "The very best. Like mine."

Padme took his hand in hers. The gesture was so easy, so natural, that Anakin hardly even questioned it, only giving her hand a little squeeze in return. "How is your mother?" she asked. "Do you hear from her much?"

"As often as we can, with all the traveling I do," Anakin said. "I talked to her the morning before your shuttle exploded. She's doing well, I think. She seems happy. She gets to mother someone again."

"Oh yes, your stepbrother."

Anakin nodded. "And his girlfriend. It sounds like they're on the brink of getting engaged. At least Mom thinks so. She's thrilled. She can't wait to have grandchildren running around the farm."

"What is it about these things?" Padme exclaimed. "They always seem to come in waves. It seems like everyone I know is getting married and having babies! First my sister, now so many of my friends, and my cousins... it never seems to end."

"Soon the galaxy will be overrun with babies," Anakin quipped, and Padme laughed.

"Better than with soldiers," she said. "It is some comfort to me, actually, to think that no matter how bad things get in the Senate, life still manages to go on for everyone else in the galaxy. Most people are still just going to work and having families and making friends and building things and doing kind things for others... all the things people have always done. Even the Military Creation Act can't stop that."

They stopped at a bench nestled among the fragrant blooms, and they sat down, Padme spreading her dress so that it draped gracefully to the ground in ivory folds. They gazed at the sky in silence for a few minutes, the pinpoints of light twinkling and sparkling in the velvety blackness above them.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Padme said dreamily at last.

"Almost as beautiful as you," Anakin said.

Padme tore her eyes from the sky and looked at Anakin, distracted from the beautiful view by the unexpected seriousness of his tone. Framed by long dark curls of hair, surrounded by the darkness of the garden, her fair face was luminous, as if shining with a light all her own, as if she really were an angel, as the boy Anakin had so blithely assumed the moment he first laid eyes on her.

Suddenly Anakin wished Ruwee had not teased him about being Padme's boyfriend, because the idea was taking an unnatural hold on his thoughts, so that for a moment, sitting there in the fragrant darkness, he had a nearly uncontrollable urge to take that dazzling face in his hands and kiss those curved lips as thoroughly as he knew how.

Padme must have sensed something of his thoughts, because she put one slim hand up to her throat and shifted her weight on the bench, leaning back ever so slightly. "I'm sorry," she said faintly, and then again, a little louder: "I'm sorry. I suppose it's horribly tactless of me to be chattering on about families, when you... I suppose you've given all that up now, haven't you?"

Anakin looked at her blankly, then said slowly, "Attachment is forbidden."

"Yes. I have heard that."

"But not love. Attachment, but not love."

"Is there a difference?" Padme asked, surprised.

"Yes." Anakin paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "Think of it this way. You love your people, don't you? All the people of Naboo?"

"Of course."

"But you've never even met most of them."

"I suppose not."

"It's like that for a Jedi. We're supposed to love everyone. Compassion is central to our philosophy. We always think of others before ourselves. But we don't get attached to any one particular person. It would stand in the way of our ability to love and serve everyone else."

"I'm not sure I understand that," Padme admitted. "I mean, I'm attached to my parents, but it didn't stop me from going out and helping other people. In fact, I think it taught me what love was, so that I could go out and share it with everyone else. Am I making any sense?"

"Well, it becomes a problem because Jedi have to spend so much time travelling. Think how hard it would be on the rest of the family, to hardly ever see their mom or dad because they were always off on missions. Not to mention, the job's so dangerous that the Jedi might never come home. Or even worse, what if someone managed to get a hold of a Jedi's spouse, or child, and held them hostage until they got what they wanted?"

"It would be a risk," Padme agreed. "But why not let people choose for themselves whether they wanted to take that risk? Or am I misunderstanding the rules of the Jedi?

"I don't know," Anakin said helplessly. "Qui-Gon is better at explaining it. I'm not sure I fully understand the rule, myself."

"But you just explained it to me!"

Anaking waved his hand. "Look, Padme, I wasn't raised to this like the others were. Anytime I try to ask questions about stuff like this, everyone goes all nervous and quiet, like I've said something unspeakable, and then they start quoting long-dead Jedi Masters at me. It's enough to say that for whatever reason, the ban on attachments is really, really important to them, and if I want to do my job as the Chosen One, I have to obey it."

"Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to attack your beliefs."

"I can't even talk about my mother to any of them, except Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan," Anakin continued, letting frustration color his voice. "I have to hide her, like I'm ashamed of her or something. So the other Padawans won't feel badly over the fact that they don't have mothers, I guess. I don't understand. I don't understand." He let his head sink down into his hands, wondering if he had said too much. From the beginning he had meant to show Padme his strength, wanted her to see all the things he had learned to do since he had joined the Jedi, how he was so much more than just a slave boy now, and here he was showing her the source of his greatest helplessness. Helpless over a rule he didn't even understand, but must obey if he wanted to meet his destiny.

For he could not deny that he did have a destiny to meet. Had he not dreamed of it from the earliest memories of his boyhood? Had he not foreseen that he would one day be a Jedi Knight and free the captives, not only on Tatooine but all over the galaxy? The Force had placed on him the burden of the title The Chosen One, and he would bear it well. He was more than willing to do whatever he must so that all those who were oppressed by the power-mongers and the tyrants and the bloodthirsty in the galaxy would one day rise up in freedom. But...

"It will be a hard life," Anakin murmured, his head still down in his hands.

"What?"

"It's what Qui-Gon said, when he offered to train me," Anakin said. "It will be a hard life. And he was right. He was right."

Padme touched his hair with her soft hand, stroking his hair gently, and Anakin closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it. Dear Padme. How he had always looked forward to her messages over the years, and yet they paled in comparison to the gentleness of her presence. Already he dreaded the parting that he knew must occur. If only...

"Anakin," Padme whispered, her voice thick with compassion, "I know it's hard for you, but I want you to know how proud I am of you. You are giving up your own desires to secure the happiness of others. Your sacrifice will not be wasted, I promise you."

Was it the way she had phrased it - "I promise you" - just as a Jedi Knight gave a formal oath? Or had the Force really surged ever so subtly at her words? In the thick of his emotions, it was hard to be sure, but for one bizarre moment, Anakin thought that perhaps Padme had actually channeled the Force in making her promise. Could it be she was Force-sensitive? Wouldn't Qui-Gon have noticed that from the beginning, and said something? Anakin looked at Padme and brought all his power to bear, trying to read her.

No. Nothing. The waves she made in the Force were no stronger than those cast by any number of other ordinary beings, although Padme herself certainly did not deserve the description of "ordinary." Perhaps he had only imagined it after all.

"Padme... I'm sorry for all the trouble that's fallen on you," Anakin said. "But I'm also... just a little glad."

"We may never have managed to meet again, if it hadn't," Padme smiled. "Lucky us."

"There's no such thing as luck," Anakin said.

"Maybe not."

* * *

Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Ivan spent much of the time on their journey securing the brig that had been constructed in the belly of the ship, testing its security and making every improvement they could conceive of. At last, it seemed they had done all they could, and Ivan excused himself to his cabin to study some of his assigned readings before going to bed.

Qui-Gon was sitting on the hard sleepcouch in the brig, fingers interlaced, looking thoughtfully at nothing in particular.

Obi-Wan sat down next to him with a weary sigh, and glanced over at Qui-Gon.

"You're worried," he said. "I can tell. You think this bounty hunter will make trouble for us?"

"No," Qui-Gon said. "Well, yes, I sense this bounty hunter is unusually resourceful. Capturing him may not be easy. But I'm afraid I was thinking of Anakin. I'm not sure he's ready for this particular assignment. He's very capable when he's performing his duty, but when it comes to his personal relationships, he can be... unpredictable. And Anakin has an attachment to Senator Amidala. It's been there since he was a boy."

"True. But they haven't seen each other in 10 years, and a great deal has happened to both of them in that time," Obi-Wan offered. "Perhaps they'll discover they've grown apart."

"I don't think so," Qui-Gon said. "When they met again, there was an instant connection. If anything, it's stronger than before."

"Not romantic?" Obi-Wan asked in surprise. In his mind he had been thinking of the two as they had been when he met them, when Anakin was only a little boy and Padme was already a young woman matured beyond her years by the burdens of leadership, and how their friendship had continued over the years across the distances that separated them. But Qui-Gon seemed to be suggesting something more.

Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. "Hard to tell. She's grown into a beautiful woman. He can't help but notice that. But with Anakin, all his personal relationships are intense. His feelings for her are strong, but so are his feelings for his mother, and for me, and for that matter, for you. Whether his friendship with Amidala will turn into something more, I couldn't say. The potential is there."

"Better for him to face that particular test sooner, rather than later," Obi-Wan said.

"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed. "But I would feel more comfortable if I were there to advise him as the situation develops. If it develops."

A silence fell between them. Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon was still worrying about Anakin, and his own thoughts turned to Ivan, and to wondering how he would fare on this mission. The specter of the mysterious bounty hunter left him feeling unsettled. Ivan worked hard during his combat training and had always done well enough, but his fighting style had more grace and economy than raw power, and Obi-Wan thought of everything Qui-Gon had told him about the armored assassin, and involuntarily he shuddered.

He glanced up at Qui-Gon, who was frowning as he stared at the wall.

"We'll never be free from worrying about our Padawans, will we?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon looked up. "I wouldn't say that," he said. "You know, after you were Knighted, the Council didn't take long to give you quite a bit of responsibility. I did worry sometimes about the advisability of that, whether you might get in over your head in some situation." He paused. "I don't worry about that anymore."

Obi-Wan smiled a little, recognizing the compliment for what it was. "I can't foresee a time when I won't worry about Ivan," he said a little ruefully. "I'm not even exactly sure what I'll do once he's Knighted; whether I'll take another apprentice right away, or go solo for a while." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Did you have an idea of what you were going to do after I was Knighted? Before you met Anakin, I mean."

"You know me," Qui-Gon said. "I try not to look past the moment."

Yes. Of course. Obi-Wan should have known.

Unexpectedly, Qui-Gon continued, "But I did think about... possibilities. Sometimes I thought about staying at the Temple and joining the full-time teaching staff. But I had mostly decided against it. I wanted to teach one more Padawan out in the field." He paused. "I was thinking about asking a girl. I thought it would be an interesting challenge."

Obi-Wan thought that over for a moment. So the arrival of Anakin had interfered with Qui-Gon's plans for the future, too, not just Obi-Wan's. Suddenly he felt ashamed of himself. In all his anger so many years ago about the way Qui-Gon had abruptly ended his training in favor of Anakin's, it had never occurred to him that Qui-Gon might feel some of the same emotions at having his own life turned topsy-turvy by a slave boy from Tatooine.

"Well," Obi-Wan said slowly. "I suppose it isn't too late. Once Anakin's training is complete, you could still do that."

"No," Qui-Gon said. His words were decisive, but a little sad. "No. Anakin will be my last."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Ivan found the system exactly where Dex had pointed them, near Rishi Maze. Eleven planets circled a white sun, most of them apparently lifeless and devoid of technology, but as they flew deeper in their scans picked up a crowded shipyard in close proximity to the fourth planet, which was itself surrounded by artificial satellites and an active communications array. Kamino, presumably.

At first glance, the planet appeared to be completely covered in water. The ice caps were so small they could barely be seen from this distance. Obi-Wan wondered if they were about to meet an aquatic species similar to the Mon Calamari, perhaps, and he touched the rebreather clipped to his waist and wished briefly that they had known to bring wetsuits, as well.

On closer inspection of the feeds from the external cams, however, there were signs of surface habitations: clusters of dark gray circular islands rising above the choppy seas. Ivan eased the ship into a high orbit, and no sooner had they done so, a signal from the planet's surface popped up on the display. Ivan glanced up at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and took a deep breath. "Here we go," he said, and opened a channel.

A voice, speaking Basic slowly and deliberately - almost musically - asked them to identify themselves.

At a nod from Qui-Gon, Ivan gave the answer they had previously settled upon - a simple and straightforward approach. "We are representatives of the Jedi Order, requesting permission to land."

"Please wait a moment," the musical voice replied, and the comm went silent.

Obi-Wan held his breath, not knowing whether they would be received with suspicion, hostility, or indifference, but to his surprise they waited only a few minutes before the voice came back on the line. "The Jedi are most welcome to Kamino, and are respectfully invited to land at the following coordinates, where they will be received with great honor." Obi-Wan bent over the holodisplay and saw that the coordinates being transmitted would place them on one of the gray clusters in the southern hemisphere.

The signal went dead.

Ivan looked up at Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and cocked an eyebrow. "Well, that went well," he said. He touched the controls and began their descent into atmosphere.

"We'll see," Obi-Wan said. "They may not be so happy to see us when they find out we intend to scour their planet for an assassin."

He looked over at Qui-Gon, who was standing quiet and relaxed, his eyes closed, in the attitude of listening. After a few moments, Qui-Gon opened his eyes and spoke. "I'm not sensing any fear or hostility. For a hidden planet, they don't seem all that surprised to have visitors."

As the ship drew closer to the surface, they got a better view of the clusters of islands - which were not islands at all, it turned out, but metallic constructions. They sank down through a layer of stormy gray clouds, and rain began to lash the transparisteel viewports. As they dropped out of the clouds they could see the buildings - most of them domed - were constructed on top of enormous pylons rising up out of the seas, high enough that the pounding waves did not reach them. Obi-Wan looked at the readouts and noticed there were energy signatures emanating from underneath the water, spreading out from the city in all directions like the spokes of a wheel. "Power conduits," he mused out loud. "Or underwater mass transit tunnels. Perhaps both."

Ivan piloted them unerringly toward their coordinates, which would place them on a wide landing pad that could be seen jutting out from one of the central domes. There were no beings in sight as their ship settled down. Ivan shut the engines off, and abruptly all that could be heard was the thrumming of a heavy rain over their heads. Ivan lowered the ramp, and he and Obi-Wan raised their hoods and followed Qui-Gon out into the driving rain.

The air was exceedingly humid, but it was almost warm outside, although gusts of wind whipped the rain at them as they walked toward the entrance to the dome. Obi-Wan gathered his robe in tight around his throat with one hand and pulled the hood in more tightly around his face, but it didn't do much good; his hair was almost instantly sodden. His boots splashed up the water standing in puddles on the deck and soaked his pants around the knees. As he walked, he glanced over the edge of the landing pad and studied the heaving seas more closely. Nothing to be seen in the water, neither boats nor animal life. If anything lived in the sea, it must live deep down. He looked up at the sky and saw no ships, no birds. The sun could barely be detected as a faint watery light emanating from one small area of the cloudy sky.

"What a cheerful place this is," Ivan said, pulling his sodden robe more tightly across his chest. Obi-Wan laughed dryly in agreement.

They reached the entrance to the dome, and a pair of transparisteel doors swished open to receive them.

Here, at last, they were greeted by the sight of something living. A tall, thin being with elongated limbs stepped forward, moving as deliberately and gracefully as a dancer, and bent its long neck toward them in an elegant bow. Even when bent, the being towered over all of them, even Qui-Gon; it had to be at least 7 feet tall. "Welcome, Jedi, to Tipoca City," he said, and his voice, like the one they'd heard over the comm, was slow and resonant. "I am Lama Su, prime minister of Kamino. I trust you are going to enjoy your stay."

The Jedi betrayed no surprise, but they had hardly expected to be personally greeted by the planet's leader, however much Jedi might be respected here. Strangely, Lama Su had no entourage. No assistants, no guards, no pomp and circumstance. The room they stood in was small and unadorned, absolutely pristine, stark white, and softly luminescent. Lama Su himself was dressed simply in a black skirted robe with a high, stiff collar. His skin was pale and his eyes were large, almond-shaped and dark, with gray pupils. He had no nose, only two long slits for nostrils, and a thin flexible crest topped his otherwise bare skull. His long arms ended in a thumb and only two fingers on each hand.

Qui-Gon returned Lama Su's bow, and Obi-Wan and Ivan to either side of him repeated the gesture. "I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," he said, "and these are Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and Jedi Padawan Ivan Bal-Tova. Thank you for your hospitality."

Lama Su blinked slowly and looked behind them, through the clear doors, as if expecting more guests. "And Master Billaba? Is she not here?" he asked slowly.

"Master Billaba?" Qui-Gon said blankly.

"Jedi Master Depa Billaba," Lama Su said. "She is still a member of the Jedi Council, is she not? She has always been most insistent that we deal with her directly if any communications are necessary."

The Jedi covered their confusion. How could the Kaminoans know Master Billaba, when no one at the Temple knew of the planet's existence? "Master Billaba's term on the Council ended some years ago," Qui-Gon replied, truthfully enough, after a few moments. "She is now occupied with other tasks."

"I see," Lama Su said. He appeared to accept Qui-Gon's explanation without question. "To business, then. You will be delighted to hear that we are on schedule. 200,000 units are ready, with a million more well on the way."

Units of what? Qui-Gon glanced briefly at Obi-Wan and sent a soft pulse through the Force, and Obi-Wan understood that they were to play along for now. Lama Su had apparently been expecting them, but so far it did not seem to have anything to do with the bounty hunter they were here to find. It would be wise to gather as much information as they could from the Kaminoans before revealing their true purpose there - if they revealed it at all.

Qui-Gon turned back to Lama Su and smiled. "That's good news," he said. "I am pleased to hear that our order is being filled efficiently."

"You wish, perhaps, to inspect the clones for yourself?" Lama Su asked graciously.

Obi-Wan started. An order of clones? Placed by Master Billaba? When, and for what purpose?

Surely the clones were not destined to be miners, like the Kaminoan clones Dex had encountered on Subterrel. There could hardly be a need for more than a million miners in the galaxy. It seemed Master Yoda had been right, that there was far more going on here than a plot to assassinate a Senator. Obi-Wan suppressed the urge to demand more answers from Lama Su, sensing that it was critical they not arouse the Kaminoan's suspicions. If he knew they were unaware of the clone order, they would get no more information from him, and tracking down the bounty hunter might be impossible without his cooperation.

"That's why we're here," Qui-Gon said. "We are anxious to ascertain the quality of the order."

"Of course," Lama Su said. "Allow me to summon the project's coordinator. She will take you on a tour of our cloning facilities."

* * *

The project coordinator for the clone order, it turned out, was a female Kaminoan named Taun We, who lacked the head crest Lama Su sported and instead had a decorative string of beads wrapped around the crown of her hairless head. Lama Su politely excused himself to tend to other duties, and Taun We led the three Jedi through Tipoca City's cloning facilities. More batches of clones were being grown in other cities, she was explaining to them in her slow musical voice, when the gleaming white corridor they were walking in suddenly transitioned into a clear-walled tube and the Jedi were given a dizzying view of rotating machinery above, below, and to both sides of them.

"The hatchery," Taun We said proudly.

Obi-Wan stopped and looked through the transparisteel at the nearest machine. It was an enormous flattened metal disc studded all over with luminescent jars - jars that contained tiny living beings suspended in bluish fluid, Obi-Wan realized in astonishment, as he saw one of them near him twitch its limbs. He stared at it, a frail little creature curled up in its artificial womb, and suddenly felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over his head: the clones were not Kaminoan, as he had assumed they would be.

They were human.

Taun We seemed to be waiting for a reaction from them, so Obi-Wan pushed aside all the questions that were springing to his mind, cleared his throat, and said, "Very impressive."

"I'd hoped you would be pleased," Taun We said. "We are proud to say that in this, the riskiest phase, fully 94.3% of the units survive the transition from fluid to air."

"The transition from fluid to air?" Ivan muttered under his breath, sounding almost indignant.

"Birth, you mean," Qui-Gon said. His gaze was serene as he studied the factory, with disc after disc of fetal clones as far back as the eye could see.

"If you prefer the term, Master Jedi," Taun We said politely.

Obi-Wan realized the discs fanned out from large vertical tubes, some of which had jars traveling down them. These jars contained the largest of the fetal clones. Taun We followed his gaze, and explained: "Once they reach maturity, they are taken to a sterile environment to be removed from the fluid. Those that survive are taken to the nursery, where they are cared for by both droids and our own medical experts. After a year, they are taken to the learning section and their education is begun."

"You teach 1-year-olds?" Ivan asked, disbelief evident in his voice. Although the Jedi Order, too, took many initiates at infancy, its early "training" mostly took the form of mental stimulation, responding to the children's physical and emotional needs, and providing positive exposure to the movements of the Force. Formal training did not begin until several years later.

"With the use of the new growth accelerants we have perfected, the clones develop approximately two years for every year they age," Taun We explained. "Come. I will show you."

The next room she led them to was a classroom, where row upon row of young boys wearing headsets sat before terminals, responding verbally to prompts from the computers. They looked to be about 10 years old, all with identical faces and voices and wearing identical uniforms. A few of them glanced up at the visitors curiously, and then immediately returned to their work. They were well-disciplined, Obi-Wan noted.

"This batch was created about five years ago," Taun We said, confirming Obi-Wan's suspicions. Growth acceleration, indeed.

"What are they learning?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Navigation, at the moment," Taun We said. "They also study engineering, geography, space flight, basic medical aid and strategic theory in the classroom. Combat training takes place in adjacent rooms that are equipped appropriately."

"Do they not learn history?" Obi-Wan asked, hoping to draw more information from their guide. "Philosophy? Art?"

Taun We turned to look at him, her dark gray pupils shrinking into tiny dots. An indication of puzzlement, Obi-Wan hazarded, based on the impressions he was getting from the Force. "In the interest of efficiency, we teach them only that which they need to know to fulfill the purpose of their creation," she said. "In a few more years, these units will be the finest soldiers in the galaxy." The pride in her voice was evident. "Now please, this way."

Taun We glided along the corridor gracefully, and the Jedi quickened their paces to keep up with her long stride. Obi-Wan glanced at his companions. Ivan was outraged and barely bothering to hide it. He looked pointedly at the classrooms filled with young boys as they passed and Obi-Wan could practically hear him thinking that these human beings, these children - only 5 years old, despite their mature appearances - were being raised merely to slaughter or be slaughtered, with no indication that they were given any opportunity to choose a different path. And the idea that a Jedi had begun this... Obi-Wan felt deeply uneasy. Could it be that Depa Billaba was the one responsible for erasing Kamino from the Temple archives, so as to hide the fact that she was doing business with the cloners? But if so, how could she think that this would remain a secret forever? At some point, presumably, she had intended to use these soldiers. Surely then questions would be asked about where they came from and why they were created.

He met Qui-Gon's eyes, and saw that his former Master was trying to communicate something to him. Obi-Wan opened himself up to the Force, and through their bond he felt Qui-Gon impressing urgency on him. Why, Obi-Wan could not begin to guess, but if Qui-Gon had reason to believe that their time here was limited, then it was. There was still much they didn't know about these cloners, and they had learned nothing about the bounty hunter they had come here to track down. It was time to buckle down and get the answers as quickly as they could. Obi-Wan touched Ivan through their bond and communicated Qui-Gon's urgency to him, and felt his assent in response.

Taun We turned a corner and another set of clear double doors swished open to admit them into another transparent tunnel. This one looked out upon a dining area. White utilitarian tables were lined with dark-haired men in red unisuits, concentrating on eating their food. Few were speaking to each other. Obi-Wan thought he could detect from them the same sort of bone-deep weariness he felt at the end of a long day filled with intensive training.

"These clones were among the first batches created 10 years ago," Taun We said. "They are now battle-ready. You will find they are formidable warriors. Come, see for yourselves."

They entered a new section of the tunnel, and now they had a bird's-eye view of another cavernous area, this one filled with adult clones engaged in various types of combat. On the right, red-suited clones were paired up and fighting hand-to-hand. On the left, they stood in lines to don white blast armor and full-face helmets before entering a smoke-filled obstacle course and attempting to accumulate "kills" using lasers mounted on their blaster rifles, rather than live ammunition.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" Taun We said. "You will find the clones are vastly superior to droids. Clones can think creatively. They are intelligent, versatile, and absolutely loyal to their commanding officers."

After a few minutes of watching, Obi-Wan realized that Taun We was not merely boasting. These men were, indeed, well-trained. They were strong. They were quick. They were clever strategists. And disciplined, above all else. None of them betrayed exhaustion or inattention or short tempers, as was likely to happen anytime you put a group of men into an aggression-filled environment. Those fighting in platoons appeared to fulfill their leader's orders to the letter. No one strayed out of place or stopped to argue. They were supervised at all levels by Kaminoans who recorded maneuvers using memory rods and took notes on datapads. One of these approached Taun We, and the two of them walked a short distance away from the Jedi and conversed in soft tones.

Qui-Gon took advantage of the opportunity and touched Obi-Wan's sleeve, then handed him a pair of electrobinoculars. "Look at the helmets," he said quietly.

Obi-Wan looked through the viewfinder and adjusted the focus until he could see a clone's helmet close up. It featured a narrow, darkened T-shaped visor, and as the clone turned his head to the side, Obi-Wan saw there was a symbol stamped on the left temple of the helmet. He drew back when he realized what it was: a black and white wheel with eight spokes: the symbol of the Republic. Obi-Wan frowned and handed the binocs to Ivan so he could see, too.

So this army was built not as a private force, but for the Republic itself. Obi-Wan thought then of the Military Creation Act, and of the fact that a significant number of Senators already believed that the Jedi were too few to handle the conflicts growing both inside and outside the Republic. How would they react when they learned the Jedi had an army already assembled, fully equipped and ready for deployment? Obi-Wan had the feeling many would not even particularly care that it had been ordered without their knowledge or approval. So long as it was already paid for, that is. Here Obi-Wan stopped short. How had it been paid for? He thought of the expenses involved in creating a million clones, feeding them, sheltering them, training and equipping them, providing medical care... the costs must have been astronomical.

Qui-Gon must have been thinking along the same lines, because as Taun We rejoined them, he turned and asked her casually: "I hope you have received all our payments?"

"Of course, Master Jedi," Taun We reassured. "All obligations have been met in full on time, as Master Billaba promised."

"The Council asked me to look over the financial records to be sure all is in order," Qui-Gon said. "I hope that won't be a problem."

"Not at all," Taun We said. "I would be happy to show them to you when the tour is over."

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to see them now," Qui-Gon said. "I've seen enough. My companions will finish the tour." His voice brooked no argument, and Obi-Wan detected the subtlest hints of Force-persuasion in it, as well.

Taun We either could not or did not resist. She summoned one of the Kaminoans observing the maneuvers and asked him to escort Qui-Gon to Lama Su's reception room. Qui-Gon briefly gripped Obi-Wan's arm reassuringly before turning to follow his guide down the corridor, and again Obi-Wan felt through their bond a sense of urgency. A few moments Qui-Gon had disappeared around a bend.

To Obi-Wan's side, Ivan had struck up a conversation with Taun We. "The blasters the clones are using... were they manufactured here on Kamino?"

"We contract with other systems for them," she answered. "Merr-Sonn for the blasters and Rendili for the Tibanna gas cartridges for live exercises."

"What about specialty weapons?" Ivan continued. "Like toxic darts?"

Obi-Wan held his breath as the Kaminoan thought about it for a moment. "Our own people here use toxic darts locally, for hunting the great rollerfish," she answered at last, "but such weapons are not practical on the battlefield."

"I see," Ivan said. He glanced at Obi-Wan, who chimed in with a question of his own: "When you say your own people... I'm curious about the demographics on Kamino. Are there many offworlders who live here?"

Taun We's pupils shrank rapidly. The question clearly puzzled her. "None. We have no needs we cannot fill ourselves. The only humans who live here are the clones." After another moment's thought, she added, "and their original host, of course."

"And who is this host?" Obi-Wan asked.

"A bounty hunter named Jango Fett."

A bounty hunter? Feeling a surge of excitement, Obi-Wan pressed on. "And where is he now?"

"Oh, he spends some of his time here, when he isn't fulfilling duties for his other clients," Taun We said serenely. Apparently she experienced no discomfort at the thought of what a bounty hunter did for a living. "Not only does he provide fresh genetic material for each batch of clones, he also assists in training our elite commandos. I believe that is where he is this afternoon."

Ivan and Obi-Wan exchanged a significant look.

"I should very much like," Obi-Wan said, "to meet this Jango Fett."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Author's note: **I welcome feedback! Please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks for your interest!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Anakin woke to the sound of giggling, the barely suppressed feminine mirth carrying clearly through the wall of the room the Naberries had put him up in for the night.

That's new, he thought. Never woke up to giggling before. His mother had a quiet, gentle laugh, and as for Qui-Gon, well... if he ever giggled, Anakin would be forced to as well.

He glanced at the chronometer - an elaborate carved one in the old style, with numbers and hands; the Naboo never did anything utilitarian without adding aesthetics as well - and saw that it was still early. He closed his eyes and just luxuriated in bed, knowing there was no urgent need to get up. They'd made no plans for today, and it seemed likely they would be on Naboo for days at least, until they heard from Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan that the assassin had been caught. For once, Anakin wasn't sorry to be missing the action.

Anakin enjoyed several long minutes of half-conscious bliss before the giggling started up again. It was Sola, Anakin was certain, because the room she shared with Darred was next to his, but it sounded like there were actually two gigglers. Padme? It seemed strange to think of a Senator giggling, but he was almost certain it was her. He wondered what they were giggling about.

Well, there was no going back to sleep now. Anakin was tempted to get dressed and go find out what was so funny, but he knew he had to meditate. He'd skipped it last night and he'd better not skip again. The longer he went without, the more difficult his emotions were to manage, he'd learned. He got up and opened the window to let in some sunlight and paused a moment to appreciate the first hints of sunrise that were turning the clouds a pearly pink. Then he composed himself, stretching out his muscles and then beginning the slow, gentle movements that helped him align his essence with the flow of the Force. Qui-Gon had long ago given up on getting him to do any meditations that required sitting or standing still. Anakin did not do well with motionlessness.

After a few minutes of this, he felt himself fully immersed in the Force, and impulsively he reached out through his bond with Qui-Gon. It took enormous effort to try to achieve any kind of clear communications with each other this way, but he didn't need to send a message, he only wanted to see if he could get some idea of how the search for the assassin was coming.

He felt Qui-Gon's presence in the Force, steady and strong. He didn't seem distressed, or triumphant, so Anakin guessed the search was still on. Anakin tried to convey a quiet reassurance back, to let him know all was well and Padme was safe. Hopefully Qui-Gon would understand.

Feeling he had done his duty, Anakin dressed and stepped out into the hall. He could hear the clatter of pans coming from the kitchen and the smell of baking pastries was hovering in the air, but he hesitated to go that way, wondering if it was a good idea to get caught in a conversation with Padme's mother without Padme around. He was afraid Jobal might try to get him to join her in convincing Padme to retire. And he didn't want Padme to retire, not only because Padme was doing such a good job as Senator, but also because once she retired, she would live on Naboo and Force knew when he'd ever see her again. At least on Coruscant, there would be a chance.

He was spared from having to make the decision when he heard Padme's voice coming from Sola's room.

"Anakin! Come here! Come in!"

Feeling a little shy, he opened Sola's bedroom door and looked in cautiously. For some reason he was afraid someone wouldn't be dressed properly, although he'd been called in, but to his relief he saw that all was well. There was no sign of Darred. Sola was seated at a vanity while Padme stood behind her, twisting her hair into some complicated arrangement. It was clearly a familiar routine for both of them. As for Padme, her dark hair hung straight down over her bare shoulders, perfectly straight and glossy, with no ornamentation whatsoever. Anakin had never seen Padme like that before. He found he liked it. Her hair was so long it went past the waist of her dress, a draped pale yellow gown that shaded down to pink and purple at the hem. She looked like the sunrise he'd just been looking at, her smile as radiant as the sun. Anakin froze in awe at her beauty and forgot what he had been about to say. Fortunately, Sola broke the silence.

"Good morning, Anakin," Sola said to him, smiling at him through the mirror's reflection.

"Morning," he said, clearing his throat. "I wasn't sure if I should go in the kitchen or what."

"If you go in the kitchen, Dad will put you to work, but then he'll help you eat everything and forget to leave enough for the rest of us," Padme said. Both she and Sola giggled at this. Anakin loved the sound of it. He wondered what he would have to do to get Padme to giggle more.

"I thought it was your mom cooking," Anakin said.

Padme shook her head. "Mom stays up late with her writing. She won't be up until late, and then she picks up the girls from their music lessons and takes them around on her errands."

"You better sit down," Sola said. "Enjoy the only moments of quiet you'll get today. That's why I get up early to do my hair. Once the girls are up, it's all over for me."

Anakin sat on the bed gingerly. "Where's Darred?" he asked.

"At work," Sola said.

"What does he do?"

"He's an architect, like me," Sola said. "We're working on designing the septic system for that lot you saw on Jantry Lane, as you came in. It's going to be a children's museum. I'm headed that way too, once I get the girls off to their lessons." She started to chatter about the construction project. Anakin listened with his ears, but his eyes were studying the two sisters. They looked fairly alike, with the same hair and shape of nose and brown eyes, but Sola had sharper cheekbones and a more severe chin. Padme was much the prettier of the two, although Anakin realized he was probably biased.

Padme had finished with Sola's hair. Now the two women traded places, and it was Padme's turn to have her hair pulled and brushed and twisted every which way. Not for the first time, Anakin was grateful he was a man and could get away with short hair that barely even needed combing. Even his small Padawan braid seemed like a bother sometimes. He couldn't imagine spending the time and patience Padme was now enduring. And yet she obviously took pleasure in it, and Anakin had to admit that when Sola was finished the result was stunning. Padme's hair made two soft wings on either side of her face, rippling back into a thick coronet banded with ribbons to match her dress.

"There you go, sis," Sola said, kissing Padme on the cheek. "I've got to go get the girls up now."

"Come get me if you need help," Padme said, and then Sola swept out of the room.

Padme was sitting at the mirror, fastening on earrings. Anakin cleared his throat. "So, I guess everyone is your family is headed out?"

Padme nodded. "Until dinnertime. And Grandmother usually goes to visit friends in the mornings. It'll be just us here for a while. Unless you want to go out. There are some nice places we could go."

"Are these nice places," Anakin asked, "also safe places? For you, I mean."

Padme started listing possibilities, and after some discussion they decided Padme would show Anakin a secluded retreat up in the Lake Country, a place Padme had visited each summer with her schoolmates, which she now owned. There was plenty of security already in place, although here in the beauty and tranquility of Naboo, it was hard to remember there was any danger. And it was better, Anakin felt, to let Padme travel if she wanted to, lest she feel like a prisoner in her own home.  
After they had breakfasted and said their farewells to everyone, they set out, first on a private shuttle ride and then onto a charming gondola, where Paddy, the old caretaker of the villa, personally piloted them across the lake.

It was a splendid old villa built of weathered stone, situated at the very edge of the water and surrounded by a rim of lush green mountains. Everything Anakin saw bespoke freshness and coolness and burgeoning life. He felt as though here was one place he could happily settle down in, for all he hated motionlessness.

"We chose the right time of year to come," Padme said, standing at the balcony and looking across the glittering expanse of water. "It's so green. Although it's very nice in the autumn, as well. I love summer, but I like the other seasons for a change sometimes. Do you?"

Anakin laughed a little. "It's always summer on Tatooine. There were days I would have killed for a good snowstorm."

He was hugely gratified when he actually got a giggle from Padme. "Can you imagine?" she said delightedly. "All the Hutts, trying to shove their way through snowbanks to watch the Podraces?"

Anakin laughed out loud. "Cold makes them them even more sluggish, you know. They would all have to burrow down into the ground to hibernate for six months."

"Might improve the place."

"With the Hutts gone, it would very nearly be a paradise, even if it rained rancors and snowed Monga snakes."

They laughed together like a couple of kids. Two of the retreat's uniformed staff walked past and gave them odd looks.  
Finally Padme wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh, Anakin. I love getting your letters, but it just isn't the same, is it?"

"No, it isn't. Am I going to be able to come see you, after this, when you're back on Coruscant?"

Padme traced a finger along the balcony thoughtfully. "I don't know. I hope so. It's going to be tricky, though, with my schedule and yours. You heard my mother. I don't even call home like I should." She looked up at Anakin, and instantly Anakin felt himself in danger of getting lost in those dark eyes. "I want to try, though," she said. "I want to see you again."  
And that's when he saw it again, that same enigmatic look in her eyes that he'd seen at the dinner table last night, that naked hunger, and this time he thought he knew what it meant, and he took a risk, and leaned down close to her, and murmured, "I want to see you again, too."

She stared up at him, riveted by his gaze, cheeks flushed despite the coolness of the morning, and he knew that this was it, this was the moment, she was going to let him kiss her, and the thought filled him with elation.

But he made himself wait.

As much as it killed him to do it, he waited. Because he didn't want it to only be his idea. He wanted her to want it as much as he did, and he wasn't sure if she did. So he drew out the moment, searching her face with his eyes, letting her see his desire but refusing to give in to it just yet. That angelic face filled all of his vision, and all he could hear was the thunder of his own heart. The tension grew to an unbearable level.

Then he saw the indecision in her face resolve into perfect clarity, and she put her slender hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to her confidently.

The rush of victory sweeping over him only served to amplify the pleasure of their contact. The kiss was everything it should have been, and more. It felt so strange and sweet and powerful and somehow familiar, as though he had kissed her a thousand times in some other life and was only now returning to remembrance, and memory upon memory came flooding back into the empty spaces in his mind. When they finally pulled apart, Anakin felt like a new man. They stared at each other, breathless, and then Anakin bent down for another.

But it wasn't to be. Padme stepped back with a small gasp, forestalling him with a hand to his chest.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she blurted out."I shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?" Anakin asked, puzzled. He thought perhaps he should have stung by this sudden reversal, but he knew perfectly well she had enjoyed the kiss as much as he had, so why regret it now?

"Why not?" Padme repeated, clearly distressed. "Because of what you said last night, about attachment, and all of that. I shouldn't have tempted you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

"But we've haven't done anything wrong," Anakin said blankly.

Now it was Padme's turn to be confused. "But didn't you say, you aren't allowed attachments, or you won't be able to do your job in the Order?"

"Well yes, I'm not allowed attachments - no marriage, no children - but this isn't that, it's just... romance."

"What's the difference?" Padme asked. "Doesn't the one lead to the other?"

"It can," Anakin said. "It doesn't have to."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." Padme put her hand up to her head, and paced along the balcony. Anakin followed along a few steps behind, until Padme stopped and turned to face him again. "But I thought all the Jedi were..." her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"What?" Anakin asked.

"...monks?" Padme finished.

Anakin blew out a long breath. How to explain this?

"Some are," he said slowly. "Some aren't."

"And that's all right with the Jedi Council?" Padme said incredulously. "Or do you mean, the ones who aren't just keep it quiet?"

"No, no, no," Anakin said quickly. "It's not like that. Look, there are thousands of Jedi in the Order. We don't all interpret the rules the same way. Some think that the ban on attachments means only no permanent or... all-consuming relationships, I guess you could say. And some think we shouldn't have any kind of romantic relationships all. Even the Masters debate this. There's room for both camps in the Order, or so I've been told."

Padme sat down limply on a nearby bench. "I don't understand."

"Well, take Obi-Wan for example," Anakin sat down too. "You remember him. He's part of the Fraternity of Forbearance. They take vows of total, voluntary chastity. He joined when he was still a Padawan. Just a few years older than me, I think."

Padme shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Should you really be telling me this?"

"It isn't a secret," Anakin reassured her. "In fact, he says it's easier when people know. So his friends won't inadvertently say tactless things, and so the women won't try to... well, you know."

"I see," Padme said slowly. "That must be difficult for him."

"Yeah." Anakin had tried any number of times to imagine what could have induced Obi-Wan to make a decision like that, and had never really been fully satisfied with any of the explanations he had been able to invent. He had never had the courage to come right out and ask.

"But the others in the Order, the ones who feel differently," Padme prompted him.

"Right. The others. Well, they figure, as long as you aren't settling down and starting a family, what's the harm in showing someone how much you love them, in what little time you have together?"

Padme shook her head vehemently. "But that's the part that makes no sense at all! I thought you said compassion was central to a Jedi's life."

"It is."

"But they're perfectly fine with sleeping with someone and then walking away, never to be seen again?" Padme demanded. "Where's the compassion in that?"

"You make it sound like it's a..." Anakin searched for the right word "...like a use-them-and-leave-them scenario. Like it's only about the lust. If they both truly love each other, it wouldn't be like that."

"Don't you think it's cruel to give someone only a piece of your heart? And only take a piece of theirs? Wouldn't that add up to two broken hearts?" The words were flowing from Padme now with a sudden passion that surprised him. "To give them your body and your affections, but not your whole soul? And then, after a little time, to take away even those things you did give? To deny them a part in your future, and condemn them to be nothing more than a... a pleasant memory in the back of your mind, when they should have been your everything forevermore?"

Anakin was starting to sweat, and he paused to choose his words carefully. "I agree, it's not ideal, but don't you think it's more realistic than everyone trying to live like a monk?"

Padme shook her her head. "I don't know what's realistic and what isn't," she said helplessly. "I can see that a Jedi has a difficult choice to face. But just because people are going to make poor choices is no reason to set the bar low. The kind of arrangement you're talking about might work well for the Jedi, but it's cruel to the other person."

Anakin felt this conversation was not at all going well, and he grasped at the final straw that he had. "Well, if the other person understands the situation, and is agreeable to it..."

Padme turned away from him and stared over the balcony at the waves lapping rhythmically on the beach. "I'm sorry. Probably there are many who would agree to such an arrangement, and I don't intend to judge them. We must seem old-fashioned on Naboo, compared to Coruscant standards, but around here love and family are two halves of the same whole. I just don't think it's right to separate them."

Anakin turned, too, and looked out, blind to the beauties of the ocean stretching away into the distance, and cleared his throat. "I see."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Taun We was nothing if not accommodating. A few minutes later Obi-Wan and Ivan were standing outside the quarters the Kaminoans provided to the bounty hunter Jango Fett.

No one responded to the chime at the door, and after a short wait in the corridor Taun We simply waved her hand in front of a panel on the wall, and the door slid open to admit them. She gestured gracefully for the Jedi to precede her into the room. "We will wait inside for Jango," she said. "Please, make yourselves at home."

Like the other areas of Tipoca City they had seen, Jango Fett's quarters were decorated in simple, clean lines of black and white. A large, curved window in the common room showed that the storm outside continued unabated; rain streamed down the transparisteel. A white cushioned bench followed the curve of the wall, but despite Taun We's invitation, Obi-Wan and Ivan did not sit down. Obi-Wan could feel the tension rising within himself and tried to temper it. They might be on the verge of meeting Senator Amidala's would-be assassin, it was true, but then again the evidence they had so far was only circumstantial. The toxic darts the Kaminoans used for fishing might be the same type that nearly killed Amidala, but they might not. Even if they were, there was no proof this bounty hunter used them against his targets. They needed more information before they could act. Obi-Wan intended to try to get as much information as he could from questioning Fett, but historically bounty hunters were not particularly fond of Jedi Knights and he wasn't hopeful Fett would be cooperative.

Obi-Wan looked around. The shelves on the wall were lined with grappling hooks, comm scramblers, homing beacons - the sort of devices that would come in handy for a bounty hunter - but not a weapon to be seen. There was a door in the back of the common room that presumably led to a bedroom, but it was shut.

Catching Ivan's eye, Obi-Wan subtly angled his head toward the bedroom door, and Ivan acknowledged with a nearly imperceptible nod. Obi-Wan stepped around Taun We, drawing her gaze away from the bedroom door, and engaged her in conversation.

"Tell me, what sort of payment does Fett receive for his services?" he asked. Behind Taun We, Ivan quietly edged closer to the bedroom door.

Taun We named the sum, which was enough to raise Obi-Wan's eyebrows. "A generous compensation," he said.

"He is well worth it," the Kaminoan said. "In addition to his payment, Jango requested only one other thing. An unaltered clone, to do with as he saw fit."

Obi-Wan paused in surprise. "Unaltered?"

Taun We inclined her long neck. "No growth acceleration. No alterations to make him more obedient or docile, as we did the other clones. Curious, isn't it? Jango has personally cared for the boy for most of his 10 years, only excepting when he is on business elsewhere. He even gave the clone a name, rather than a designation - his own name: Fett. Boba Fett."

"Fascinating," Obi-Wan said. "Could you tell me more about the elite troops you mentioned? The ones that- excuse me a moment." Obi-Wan had seen behind Taun We that Ivan was now standing by the door with his finger hovering over the control panel. Obi-Wan paused a moment and then sneezed, loudly. Ivan took advantage of the noise to cover the sound of the door swishing open, and in seconds he had disappeared into the interior.

"-the ones that Fett helps train," Obi-Wan finished, sniffling a little.

Taun We blinked slowly. "They are the advanced recon commandos. They also were not altered for docility. Instead, we enhanced their physical prowess and put them under Jango's tutelage to learn discipline. You will find them invaluable for covert operations and other missions of a more delicate nature."

* * *

Alone in the next room, Ivan stood on the threshold for a few moments, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark; he didn't dare turn on the overhead lights for fear of drawing attention. Luckily a feeble white light came through the curved windows at his left, where he could catch through the misty rain a glimpse of the lighted panels on a nearby dome. Through the door he could hear the muffled voices of his Master and Taun We, but all in here was silence.

Gradually, his eyes adjusted and Ivan studied his surroundings, calling on the Force to enhance his senses and keep him alert. The room he stood in was almost rectangular, although the wall to his left curved gently to form the outer edge of the domed building. A bed stood at the far end. Closely-spaced shelves and racks lined the inside wall, but their contents were covered in shadow. Breathing slowly and silently, Ivan took one step forward and then another, placing his feet on the hard floor as deliberately and gracefully as a Kaminoan.

A bolt of lightning lit up the room more brightly for a moment, and was quickly followed by the low rumble of thunder. In the flash of light Ivan noted that the rack he stood near was filled with blaster rifles, lined up with military precision. He took a few more steps. Again the lightning flashed. Now he could see what filled some of the shelves: blaster power packs in neat stacks, and at least two dozen miniature concussion rockets. He also caught a glimpse of durasteel crates lined up on the floor under the shelves, the kind used to safely store explosives. Ivan had a feeling that if he opened them, he'd find all the materials needed to arm those rockets, and probably a stash of hand-held detonators as well. He restrained himself from trying to open them, though. There was only one thing he needed to find, and it wasn't explosives.

A third flash of lightning lit the room. Ivan saw something that captured his attention: a set of blast armor, placed on the floor down by the foot of the bed. Ivan bent down and touched the armor with a finger. Durasteel, strong but light. A rocket pack was attached to the back of the torso piece, and Ivan thought of what Qui-Gon had told them about Anakin catching a glimpse of an armored man rocketing away during their pursuit of Senator Amidala's attacker. Ivan felt a thrill run down his spine, but he tamped down his excitement. It was still only circumstantial evidence. He needed to find something more. He needed to keep looking.

Ivan straightened up and stepped toward a set of drawers, but before he could open one, he heard something from the other room that made his blood run cold. He could hear a new voice speaking, a man's voice, deeper than Obi-Wan's.

It seemed Jango Fett was home.

* * *

Taun We's explanation to Obi-Wan of the elite ARC clones, as she called them, was cut short when they heard the door leading to the corridor slide open. Turning as one, they saw a man and a boy enter the room. Instantly Obi-Wan narrowed his focus and concentrated all his senses, including his Force-sense, on the man.

Jango Fett was, naturally, very similar to the thousands of clone soldiers Obi-Wan had seen that day. But not identical. He was noticeably older, for one thing, probably middle-aged, and his face was pitted and scarred with old war wounds. He had in his eye the same wary watchfulness of a nexu - he was studying Obi-Wan with no less intensity than Obi-Wan was studying him. Fett wore a loose woven blue shirt and simple brown trousers. Beside him stood one of his young clones - the one he had specially requested from the Kaminoans, perhaps. The boy looked to be about 10 years old, was dressed in a blue tunic and had tousled dark hair that framed his face. He stared at Obi-Wan with a miniature version of Jango's alert expression on his youthful face.

"Jango," Taun We said warmly, stepping forward. "Welcome home. And greetings to you, Boba. May I introduce Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is here to check on our progress?"

Jango nodded to Obi-Wan curtly.

"-and this is his student," Taun We continued, "Jedi Padawan- but where is your companion?" She swiveled her head gracefully from side to side, looking puzzled.

Obi-Wan spoke quickly. "He preferred to return to the training section and watch the maneuvers. I hope you don't mind?"

"Of course not," Taun We said graciously, but Jango's eyes were narrowed. He looked down at the boy by his side and spoke a few words in Huttese. Boba nodded, and before Obi-Wan could say a word or make a move, the boy headed straight for the bedroom and the door slid open to admit him. He went inside, and the door slid shut.

Jango stared at Obi-Wan expectantly, but Obi-Wan managed to keep cool. "Your clones are impressive," he said, and he was pleased that his voice sounded normal. "You must be very proud."

He kept one ear open for Fett's reply, but the other ear was straining to hear any noise from the bedroom, any outcry or commotion that would surely result if young Boba found a Jedi snooping around his living quarters. But so far all was silence.

* * *

Ivan Bal-Tova was in a bit of a situation.

Thank the Force he'd had the foresight to keep some portion of his attention on the door as he searched the bounty hunter's room for evidence. Warned by the Force of someone's approach, he had swiftly and silently spun around and then dodged through an open door he noticed to his right, tucked in the shadows between racks of weapons. Just in time. He was safely inside when he heard the door from the common room slide open and a moment later the lights powered on in the room he had just been searching. Ivan squinted his eyes against the unwelcome brightness shining through the still-open doorway and looked around, trying to get his bearings.

He was not in a 'fresher, as he had half-expected, but another bedroom. Only a few steps behind him stood a bed, smaller than the one in the other room, and covered with rumpled blankets. Half a dozen model ships hung from the ceiling, with tiny red and white running lights blinking on and off. There were stacks of ammunition and racks of weapons in this room, too, just as neatly arranged as those in the other room, only the blaster rifles here were noticeably smaller.

Ivan didn't have time to ponder on the odd juxtaposition of boyhood toys and lethal weapons in this room, because he could hear footsteps in the first bedroom. Light footfalls that advanced slowly, deliberately. Every so often they paused and a metallic creak could be heard, as though someone were looking inside a weapons cabinet.

One thing was certain, they were coming closer.

Holding his breath to maintain perfect silence, Ivan swiftly accessed his situation. No windows in this room. No other door. No closet, just a small wardrobe with clothes spilling out of it. Only a fool would hide under the bed.

The footsteps in the other room were nearly upon him. Blast it! Running out of time, running out of options.

Ivan glanced up again, and saw that not only were there model ships hanging from the stark white ceiling, but also model planets, with a large sun in the center and nearly a dozen "orbiting" bodies, the fourth one out painted a solid blue. The Kamino system. They were attached to the curved ceiling with terenthium rods about half an inch thick. Would they be strong enough...?

A shadow appeared on the threshold of the door. It was now or never. Ivan took a deep breath and leaped.

A boy stepped in through the doorway and paused. It was one of the young clones, like those Ivan had seen in the classrooms during the tour, only this boy had longish, tousled hair rather than a military crop... and he held a blaster pistol in front of him in a two-handed grip.

Ivan spared no more attention to note any other details, because he was busy trying desperately to stay spread-eagled against the ceiling. His left hand gripped the rod that supported a small brown planet. With his right he hung onto the rod for an ice planet. His Padawan braid, which was now nearly two feet in length, was clamped firmly between his teeth to keep it from dangling. His feet were braced against the curve that joined the ceiling to the wall, but already his boots were starting to slip down the plasteel surface. He pushed his feet hard against the wall and called on the Force to help anchor him to the surface. The slipping slowed, but didn't stop. Ivan silently cursed the Kaminoans and their triple-blasted preference for curved surfaces. What was wrong with good old-fashioned right angles, anyway?

The boy took a few steps into the room, holding his blaster pistol before him with the assurance of one who has had plenty of practice with such weapons. His eyes ran slowly over the walls, the floor, the furniture.

Staring down at the boy, with his boots sliding incrementally down the wall, it occurred to Ivan that this boy had been trained in battle tactics since birth, that he was bred for intelligence and cunning, and that it was eventually going to occur to him to look up once the other possible hiding places had been exhausted.

And when he did, that - as the Dentaali liked to say - would be that.

* * *

Jango Fett deflected Obi-Wan's praise of his clone army with an impatient gesture. "I'm just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe," he said.

Obi-Wan frowned. _We'll see about that._ "Who hired you?"

"One of your Jedi Masters. Depa Billaba."

"On Coruscant?"

"On one of the moons of Bogden."

"What did she look like?" Obi-Wan asked abruptly.

If Jango found the question strange, he gave no indication. "Don't know," he said. "Kept her hood up. She offered good money for the job, and she delivered. That's all I need to know about my clients."

"But you have been to Coruscant, haven't you?"

"Once or twice."

Blast. This bounty hunter was too smart to directly lie to him. Obi-Wan sensed some measure of truthfulness, but also evasiveness.

"Recently?" he pressed.

Jango was having none of it. "Possibly."

Obi-Wan was hardly surprised.

* * *

From his vantage point on the ceiling, Ivan watched the young clone take a few more steps into the room toward the bed and cautiously drop to one knee to look under it.

Ivan shut his eyes and forced himself to relax his mind, even as his body remained taut. He emptied himself of his physical discomfort, the muscles that were beginning to tremble with the strain of holding himself up, his fear of discovery, the danger Obi-Wan was in, of all thoughts except this one: the memory of how the ceiling had looked before he had touched it. The exact placement of the models. The blinking lights on the ships. The patterns of shadow and light coming from the open door. The heating vent now hidden behind his back.

When every detail was clear in his mind's eye, he locked onto that image, took in a steady breath and used the Force to project the illusion into the mind of the boy.

Just in time.

The boy looked up. His brown eyes looked straight up at where Ivan had braced himself against the ceiling. The moment seemed to stretch into eternity. Ivan ignored the distractions nagging at the corners of his mind - the planets' rods slowly bending under his weight, his boots slipping ever lower down the curved wall, the nose of a model ship poking uncomfortably in his ear - and thought of nothing but holding his Force illusion firmly in the clone's mind.

A tense moment lingered, and then passed. The boy lowered his gaze. He took a fresh grip on the blaster pistol and walked out of the bedroom. Ivan heard his footsteps in the first bedroom. The sounds grew fainter, until the lights switched off, a door swished open and shut, and silence fell.

Ivan didn't move. First, he extended out his Force-senses to be sure the boy really had left. Only when he was sure the other bedroom was truly unoccupied did he drop down to the floor, using the Force to slow his descent so that he landed lightly on his feet. He spat out his now-soggy braid and shook his arms vigorously to get the blood flowing back into them, and then without further delay he slipped back into the first bedroom and resumed searching as quickly and silently as he could. The Force was speaking to him, and it was telling him he didn't have much time.

* * *

Obi-Wan breathed a silent sigh of relief when the bedroom door swished open again and Boba returned swiftly to Jango's side, nodding seriously at his elder. Thank the Force, Ivan had managed to escape notice.

Taking fresh courage, Obi-Wan resumed questioning Fett. "What sort of other jobs do you take?"

A scowl deepened the scars crisscrossing the bounty hunter's forehead. "I have many clients," he said. "My business with them is my own."

"You've chosen a dangerous career," Obi-Wan said. "I hope you take care which jobs you take. If anything were to happen to you, your clone army would be bereft of your leadership."

"They can take care of themselves," Jango said flatly. "I have no political opinions, Master Jedi. I'm invested in the success of the clone army because my paycheck and my reputation depends on it. I have no personal interest in whatever wars you may be intending to fight with them."

"Is that right?" Again, Obi-Wan sensed no deception. He wondered if he needed to stall Jango further to buy Ivan more time to search the bedroom, but when he sent a questioning pulse through the Force to Ivan, he felt in return a wave of peace. All was well with him for now, at least. Unfortunately, there was nothing Obi-Wan could do to help Ivan escape the apartment, not with Jango watching him like a Farlas hawk, but the unconcern he was feeling from Ivan made him hopeful that his Padawan already had a solution to that problem.

Obi-Wan forced a smile and bowed courteously to Jango Fett. "Thank you for your time," he said.

"Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi." There was a veiled threat in the words, that much was certain.

Taun We turned and gracefully walked out of Jango's quarters. Obi-Wan followed, feeling as though a bead were drawn on the back of his head as he left.

* * *

When the Jedi Knight had left, Jango stood deep in thought.

"What is it, Dad?" Boba asked, his eyes wide with concern. He knew that expression, and it wasn't one he saw his father wear very often.

His suspicions were confirmed by Jango's next words, spoken slowly, almost reluctantly: "Go and get the transmitter. It's time we spoke with Tyranus."

Boba lifted his chin in defiance. "You don't need her help to handle a Jedi, Dad!" he said.

"It isn't a question of needing," Jango said sharply. "Her instructions to me were clear. The Jedi are here sooner than she expected. She'll want to know right away. Now go and get the transmitter."

Boba knew better than to question Jango a second time. Without another word he spun on his heel and fetched the transmitter held in reserve for communications with Tyranus. He couldn't suppress the hope that rose within him that perhaps she would order his father to eliminate the Jedi. That was a battle Boba would not miss for the world.

* * *

Ivan was already waiting in the observation tunnel, watching the clones run through their training exercises, when Obi-Wan and Taun We returned. Obi-Wan noticed that there were raindrops glinting in his hair, and the shoulders of his robe were newly dampened. Ivan met Obi-Wan's eyes and gave him the barest hint of a smile.

"Shall we continue with the tour?" Taun We asked them graciously. "Or perhaps you would care for rest and refreshment instead?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," Obi-Wan said quickly, anxious for an opportunity to speak to Ivan in privacy.

Taun We led them into a nearby room, white-washed with light and furnished with a wide oval table, but no chairs. Two Kaminoans stood ready to serve them; one of them waved a hand in front of a control panel and two egg-shaped seats descended from the ceiling. Obi-Wan and Ivan took their seats and tried not to show their impatience at the Kaminoans' slow, graceful movements as they served the Jedi food and drink in gleaming white dishes. Meanwhile, Taun We unclipped a small comm device from her sleeve and placed it on the table. "Please contact me when you are ready to resume the tour," she said. "Your attendants will wait in the next room if you require anything further." A few moments later the door swished shut behind the three Kaminoans, and Obi-Wan and Ivan were alone at last.

"Well?" Obi-Wan demanded. "What did you find in the bedroom?"

"Bedroom?" Ivan said. "More like an armory. He had every kind of weapon you've ever seen in your life stored in there, and probably some you've only imagined. Flame projectors, concussion rockets, portable lasers... and this." He held up a tiny metallic object between his thumb and forefinger.

Obi-Wan took it from him carefully and rolled it between his fingers, examining it. It was a toxic dart, identical to the one Qui-Gon had showed them back in the Temple.

"I found a whole drawer full of them," Ivan said quietly. "And there's a dart shooter to match, integrated into the vambraces of his armor. Which also comes with a rocket pack, I might add."

"So that's it, then," Obi-Wan said grimly. "He's our man."

"It would certainly seem so."

Obi-Wan already had his comm device and was initiating a signal to Qui-Gon.

The Jedi Master answered quickly. "Yes?"

"I'm giving you an update on our progress, Master, as you requested," Obi-Wan said, speaking cautiously in case Qui-Gon was not alone. "Our time with our guide has been most enlightening. She identified the bounty hunter who served as the host for the clones." He placed the barest emphasis on the words "identified" and "bounty hunter." "He is a man called Jango Fett. Taun We was kind enough to introduce us to him, and we found the meeting productive. He is a man of… many talents."

"Very good," Qui-Gon said. "Lama Su's aides are here, assisting me in getting the financial records I requested. The fund transfers were quite complicated and involved many accounts. It may take me some time to get what I need. If you get a chance, why don't you give the Council an update on our inspection. I know they'll be anxious to hear about the status of the army."

"I understand."

Qui-Gon severed the signal. Obi-Wan looked at Ivan. "I'll head back to our ship and make the report to the Council. You stay here. Make my excuses to Taun We if she comes back before I do."

Ivan nodded. "Yes, Master."

"Good." Obi-Wan headed for the door, but paused just before he reached them. "By the way, how did you get out of Fett's quarters, anyway?"

Ivan grinned. "Out the window."

"I've yet to see a window here that's designed to open," Obi-Wan said, puzzled.

"I figured a bounty hunter wouldn't live in a place with only one exit. So I just felt along the bottom of the windows until I found the one he'd altered with a hidden hinge. There was a ladder out there and everything. Piece of sweetcake."

Obi-Wan slapped Ivan's shoulder. "Well done, Padawan."

Ivan gave a mock little bow in acknowledgment. By the time he straightened up, Obi-Wan was gone. Ivan leaned back in his egg-shaped chair and helped himself to an hors d'oevre. "Always on the move," he mumbled through a mouthful of pelmeni.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When Anakin left his bedroom early in the morning, he found Padme standing at the balcony outside their rooms, already dressed for the day in a long yellow dress embroidered with pink roses. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, and a beautiful smile lit up her face.

"Good morning," she said. "Did you sleep well? I was thinking, maybe we could go on a picnic today. There's a beautiful waterfall not far from here, and the weather is perfect for it. What do you think?"

Anakin stared at her incomprehensibly, his mind a million light-years away from picnics and waterfalls and perfect weather. The way Padme had her hair, in long curls down her back and two soft buns on either side of her face, she looked impossibly young and innocent and utterly removed from the dark thoughts swirling in his brain.

"Do you have a transceiver here I can use?" he said.

"Of course," Padme said. "It's this way. I'll take you. Are you checking in with Master Qui-Gon?"

"No," Anakin said. "I need to talk to my mother."

Padme heard the tension in his voice, and glanced up at him. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm not sure. I just need to see her."

"I see," Padme said delicately.

They walked on in silence for a few minutes, and then Anakin continued, at once reluctant and yet eager to make Padme understand. "It's just that I had a dream last night. I thought she was calling to me, like she was in pain, and she was calling out for help."

A frown crossed Padme's face. "And you think it might have been real?"

"I don't know," Anakin said. "I worry about her a lot. Sometimes it comes out in my dreams at night. But last night, it felt... I don't know. Her fear, it felt almost... palpable. It didn't feel like a dream. It frightened me."

"Is that possible?" Padme asked. "For her to reach you from so far away?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Jedi can do it, sometimes, when the need is great, if they have a particular bond with one another, like I do with Qui-Gon. And sometimes the Force speaks to us in visions. If it was a warning to me..." Anakin smoothed his robe, touched his lightsaber unconsciously. "Or maybe it was nothing. Just a dream. I need to talk to her, to be sure."

"I think that's a good idea," Padme said. "It's right through here. I'll wait out here for you."

"No," Anakin said. "Please. You can come in. I don't mind. Your presence is... soothing."

Padme gave him a ghost of a smile as she followed him inside and watched him initiate a transmission to Tatooine.

There was no response. Impatiently, Anakin paced back and forth across the room and then tried to retransmit, over and over again, but no one picked up.

"I don't understand," Anakin said, frustrated. "Mom should be home. It's the middle of the day there, and no one goes out in the heat." He sent the transmission request again, and again there was nothing.

Closing his eyes, Anakin stilled his mind and reached out with the Force, searching with all the strength he had in his soul for that soft glow that was his mother's presence. Beside him, Padme remained silent, sensing his need for concentration.

There. Was that her? It was so hard to distinguish between his yearning for her presence and her actual presence, but he thought he felt her. But something was different. He thought of how his mother's spark of life had always felt to him, so small and gentle and modest, almost plain, but with the subtle beauty of a tolus blossom in the desert at dawn, when the dew touched it and made it sparkle in the growing light.

She didn't feel that way now. Now, she felt subdued, muted, like the blossom had been exposed to the burning of the midday suns, and all the dew was gone and the blossom was slowly wilting in the glare and the heat and the dust.

"Something is very wrong," Anakin said. "Something is very, very..." His voice cracked. "Something has happened. I can feel it."

Padme silently reached out to him and folded him into her arms, and Anakin let her hold him and stroke his hair, and so great was his fear and grief that he hardly even noticed what she was saying to him in her soft voice, words of comfort, words of love.

They were still that way when a beep interrupted them. At last, the transmission had been accepted on the other end. Moving quickly, Anakin pulled away from Padme and stepped into the projection circle on the floor. Before him, a hologram flickered to life on the console: the blue figure of a young man with a hint of a beard, dressed in desert robes.

"Owen," Anakin said. "My stepbrother," he added in a quick aside to Padme. "Owen, it's Anakin. I need to talk to my mother right away. It's important."

Owen took a deep breath and let it out. "You can't," he said slowly. "She isn't home."

"Where is she?" Anakin asked. "I've been calling and calling and no one ever picked up. Where is she?"

"We're... not sure."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" Anakin demanded. "Owen, what is going on? Talk to me!"

Owen's wavering blue hologram looked somber. "Early this morning, she went out to pick the mushrooms that grow near the vaporators. She never came back in. When Dad and I went out to look for her, we found a set of footprints leading away from our homestead, into the deep desert."

"She would never have wandered off like that-" Anakin started.

"Yes, I know," Owen interrupted. "It wasn't just her footprints. They were single-file, so there's no way to know for sure how many there were, but whoever they were, they took her with them."

Anakin rocked back on his heels in shock. "Then... she's gone? Didn't you follow the tracks?"

"Of course we did. They led east, into Fallon's Slot, and then the footprints ended and there was nothing but bantha tracks, heading deep into the canyon. There's a Tusken Clan encamped that way. We couldn't go on that way, not with just the two of us, so we went back home, got all our blasters, got our neighbors to come with us, and went back to follow the bantha tracks."

Owen paused for a long moment, his face working. Anakin, feeling the panic rising to a fever pitch inside him, wanted to reach right through the holographic projector, wanted to grab him by the shoulders, wanted to shout at him to just tell him already, but Padme laid a soft hand on his arm in a silent caution, and Anakin forced himself to bite his lip and remain still. Finally, Owen continued, "They were expecting us. The Sand People. They ambushed us. We weren't... prepared for what they had, we didn't have the numbers they had. We couldn't get through, and... they just forced us back and back and back. We had to retreat. We couldn't go on anymore."

"You... you..." Anakin fought to find the words. "You mean my mother is still out there, who knows where, who knows what they're doing to her... Why aren't you getting more people and trying again?"

"More people!" Owen stared at him, incredulous. "How many people do you imagine there are for us to call on? We live out in the middle of nowhere. We brought all our closest neighbors. Everybody got hurt, two of them were _killed_, and we couldn't even collect their bodies, we had to just leave them lying there on the ground with Sand People howling all around them like animals. You think the rest of them are going to go out again _now_? Don't you understand anything I've said? We were being slaughtered!" Owen's face was wild with grief, his arms held out stiffly to his sides with fists clenched, his voice hoarse. "My father is lying in the next room with his leg missing! How is he supposed to ride for her now?"

"He lost his leg?" Anakin repeated. "Oh... Owen..." He took a breath, tried to calm down. "Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you call me as soon as you realized she was missing?"

"What good would that have done?" Owen snapped. "You're light-years away, off on some damned-fool idealistic crusade, as I recall. If you wanted to protect your family, then you should have stayed here at home, where you belonged."

"How dare you!" Anakin shouted. "How dare you! I'm out here every day putting my life on the line to protect _everybody's_ mother! I'm protecting her and you and Cliegg and everybody on Tatooine and everybody in the damn galaxy! What the hell is the matter with you! You and Cliegg were supposed to be there to protect her, but you let her go outside all by herself? What were you thinking, why weren't you doing _your_ job?"

"Anakin, stop!" Padme cried, rapidly stepping into the projector's circle with him, arms outstretched, pleading. "He isn't himself, you're not yourself, we're all upset, just everybody calm down for a minute!"

Anakin and Owen stared at each other, shoulders heaving with fury, and said nothing.

Padme started again, in a quieter tone. "Talking about what happened doesn't do any good now. We need to think about what we need to do next. How can we find Shmi?"

The silence stretched out for a minute. Then, Anakin spoke up. "Do we even know for certain that it was the Sand People who took her?"

"Who else?" Owen said. "They traveled single-file, they rode banthas, and when we followed the tracks it took us into a Tusken ambush. They were waiting for us. They knew we'd come for her."

"Something isn't right," Anakin said. "Why would the Sand People even do this? They attack travelers, they steal water, they steal stuff, they fight over territory. They don't steal _people_. Why would they? How would it benefit them?"

Owen shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "I've never heard of them doing anything like this before. But now they have."

"Maybe they intended to make demands," Padme offered. "Something they wanted in exchange for her safe return."

"Sand People don't think like that," Owen said flatly. "They're savages, more like animals than people. They don't make plans and schemes. They just see what they want and then try to take it. But Shmi had nothing that would be of value to them."

"They don't take slaves?" Padme asked.

Anakin shook his head. "They hate all others. They want no dealings with any other race. It's just how they are."

"You didn't see any sign of her among the Tuskens, then?" Padme asked.

"No," Owen said. "But the ambush was in the slot canyon. We never got as far as their encampment. That's where she would be, surely."

"We don't even know-" Anakin swallowed. "We don't even know if she's still alive by now."

Padme laid a hand on his arm. "If they had intended to kill her, they would have done it right there at the homestead. They had a reason for taking her. Whatever that reason, she must be still alive."

Anakin thought for a long moment. "Someone needs to go to the encampment. Someone needs to look for her. It's the only way we'll ever know for sure."

Owen shook his head. "I want to go look for her," he said wearily, "but it won't do any good for me to go by myself into a whole camp full of warriors. I'm a good shot, but not that good. And I can't leave Dad. Infection is already starting to set in."

Anakin took a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to do, what he needed to do, but he knew he couldn't do it, not when he was honor-bound to protect Padme.

"Anakin," Padme said quietly. "If you want to go, you should go. She's your mother. I'll be safe here, at home, with all my security forces. You should go."

"Your security forces couldn't protect you from the assassin," Anakin said. "I can't leave you."

"I'll be fine, truly..."

"No. You're not leaving my side."

"Then take me with you," Padme said.

"To Tatooine? I don't think so."

"I've been there before, remember? I'm not afraid. Like you said, I'll be safe with you, no matter where we are. I know you would never let anything happen to me. We'll go together, and you'll find your mother. I think it's what you're meant to do."

"Then I'll go," Anakin said quietly. He spoke to Owen. "I'll come to you, as quick as I can. Don't worry. The Sand People have never faced a Jedi before. If my mother is there, I'll bring her home. You have the word of a Jedi."

Owen nodded. "I'll be waiting for you." His hologram vanished.

Padme caught up her skirts and moved toward the door. "I'll call for a ship, and have my people pack our things. And some bacta, for your stepfather."

"I'm just going to make one more call, to Qui-Gon," Anakin said. "I need to let him know what we're doing."

Padme paused at the door. "What will he say?"

"I think he'll understand," Anakin said. "He always does understand, better than anyone else, about my mother."

Padme left, and Anakin input the transmission code for the _Equilibrium_. But though he waited until their ship was loaded and ready to go, Qui-Gon never answered.

"Should you try calling the Jedi Council directly?" Padme asked hesitantly. She had changed into a turquoise dress, one that would better protect her from the hot suns of Tatooine, and she carried a flowing hooded robe to match. Behind her, R2-D2 tootled, anxious to board the ship.

Anakin shut down the transmitter. "No," he said. "I already know what they'll say."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

_Author's note: I hope you are enjoying the story thus far. I'm looking forward to posting the next chapter, which is going to have some rip-roaring action in it! I haven't been seeing many reviews lately, although my stats are still up, so I'm not sure what that means, but I would love to hear your input! Please take a moment to leave a review and let me know what you're thinking, good or bad._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Obi-Wan hurried back to the _Equilibrium_, hastily pulling up his hood before stepping back out into the driving rain. The landing pad was as lonely as before. Nothing could be heard but the low roar of the waves below and the steady patter of raindrops on the deck as he crossed over to the ship and lowered the boarding ramp.

Once inside, he wasted no time activating the transmitter and instructing it to initiate a transmission to Coruscant, "care of the old folks' home," an amusing code phrase Master Yoda himself had come up with to ensure the signal would be routed directly to the old Grandmaster.

And sure enough, Obi-Wan didn't have to wait long before the shimmering blue image of Yoda - accompanied by Master Windu - appeared on the holoprojector.

"Obi-Wan," Yoda said gravely. "What news, have you?"

Obi-Wan quickly explained all they had seen and heard upon arriving at Kamino. When he came to the part about learning of Depa Billaba's role in ordering the clone army, Obi-Wan found himself having to push past his reluctance to share that particular piece of information. He was all too aware that Master Windu himself had trained Billaba; she was the only other Jedi in the Temple who had mastered the unique and difficult lightsaber form created by Windu himself, and the two shared a close bond even though they were no longer master and apprentice.

Obi-Wan phrased it as diplomatically as he could: "Depa Billaba, or someone claiming to be her, ordered the clone army and has been keeping track of its progress throughout the past decade, or so the Kaminoans informed me. Did the Council ever authorize the creation of a clone army?"

He knew perfectly well they had not, or else Master Yoda surely would have mentioned it once Qui-Gon traced the origin of the toxic dart to a world populated by cloners. Or, if the Council had placed such an order but wished to keep it from general knowledge for the time being, at that point a Council member would surely have taken over Qui-Gon's mission. They had not.

"No," Mace said firmly. "Whoever placed that order did not have our authorization. We will question Master Billaba." His voice betrayed no reluctance for the task. "What of the Kaminoans? Do you believe they provided assistance to Jango Fett in his attempts to assassinate Senator Amidala?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "There appears to be no motive. They hired Jango to perform a legitimate job for them; cloning isn't a crime. As a hidden system, here in the Outer Rim, they have little stake in the Military Creation Act. They appear to be disinterested in the rest of the galaxy, almost to the point of xenophobia."

Yoda harrumphed. "Do not assume anything, Obi-Wan. Most eager, am I, to analyze the financial records Qui-Gon has obtained. Much, they may reveal." He looked at Windu, and it seemed a moment of silent communication passed between the two Masters before they turned back toward Obi-Wan.

"Arrest the bounty hunter," Yoda said. "To Coruscant, you will bring him, for questioning."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said. "I will report back when I have him."

In a matter of minutes, Obi-Wan had apprised Ivan and Qui-Gon of Yoda's instructions. Both of them were attempting to make their farewells and extract themselves from view of the Kaminoans, but Obi-Wan beat them back to the corridor outside Jango Fett's quarters. Unfortunately, when he pressed his ear against the door, all he heard was silence, and when he probed through the Living Force, he sensed nothing. The quarters were deserted; the Fetts had disappeared.

"They're on the run," he said tersely into the comlink.

"Check the landing pads," Qui-Gon said. "There were four on this dome. I'll take the south side. You take the north. Ivan-"

"I'm almost to the west entrance now," Ivan said breathlessly.

Obi-Wan tore through the soothingly luminescent corridors with reckless abandon. Thank the Force, he didn't encounter any Kaminoans along the way. Before long he reached a rain-lashed transparent door, and dimly through the rain Obi-Wan saw one of the strangest ships he had ever seen in his life. It was of a generally bulbous shape, with stubby wings and a single, long leg bristling with laser cannons that extended from the body of the ship. Bizarrely, the ship was not parked on this "foot," but rather lay flat on its back on the landing pad, leaving the cockpit windows staring straight up into the stormy sky, looking for all the world like the mythical Syrops felled by the weaver's son.

Two figures were dashing back and forth in the rain, lifting storage crates from a large stack on the landing pad and carrying them up the docking ramp. One was dressed head to toe in durasteel armor, complete with full helmet and rocket pack.

"I've got them," Obi-Wan said into the comlink. "North landing pad."

"On my way," Ivan said breathlessly.

"I'm coming," Qui-Gon said.

"I can't wait," Obi-Wan said. "We'll lose them. Catch up quick." Without pause, he raised his hands to part the doors and went barreling out into the rain.

Young Boba Fett, who was facing toward the dome, caught sight of Obi-Wan and dropped his crate, crying out.

Jango whipped around - for surely it was Jango - and in a flash his hands dropped down to twin holsters and drew twin blaster pistols.

This was not entirely unexpected.

Already Obi-Wan's blue blade was snapping to life, and in an instant, it became a whirl of light, batting away the blaster bolts as they came flying in, the Force guiding his hand true with every movement.

The boy flung himself up the ramp and disappeared into the bowels of the ship, but Jango did not retreat one step, continuing to fire away coolly, each shot coming straight at Obi-Wan with an impressive precision. Undeterred, Obi-Wan kept moving forward, employing the tactic Cin Drallig, the Temple's battlemaster, wryly called the "Jedi march of death." Step by step, slow but steady, he came closer and closer to Fett, all the while deflecting the blaster bolts coming at him in unpredictable patterns - low right, left, right, right, high left - but never allowing his forward momentum to flag for an instant. In a few moments he would be within reach of the bounty hunter, and in one moment more he would have the man unarmed - in one sense or another. Master Drallig would be proud.

Unfortunately, Jango Fett had other plans.

An instant before Obi-Wan came within reach, Fett abruptly grasped his left forearm with his right hand, as if to steady his aim, and instinctively Obi-Wan lifted his lightsaber to block the blaster bolt that never came. Instead, a long jet of flame shot from Fett's wrist and an intense heat seared Obi-Wan's face for an instant before he could turn aside and protect his head with his free arm.

Still, he tenaciously clung to the thread of the Force flowing through him, and even as he staggered back with eyes stinging and blurring, he kept his lightsaber in front on him in guard position, his arm automatically moving to deflect the bolts that were now coming at him, inexplicably, from high above.

Then, abruptly, they stopped.

Still warily holding his blade before him, Obi-Wan blinked back the tears and did a rapid evaluation to see whether he or his clothing was now on fire. Thank the Force, everything was too damp for that. His robe smoldered slightly but he was otherwise unharmed. Rapidly he scanned the area and was dismayed to see that Jango had vanished from sight. The ship sat idling in the rain, its boarding ramp still lowered, and all was quiet.

The bounty hunter had taken advantage of his distraction and activated his rocket pack, Obi-Wan suddenly realized, remembering now the whooshing sound he had heard even as he fought to regain control after getting flamed. But where had he gone? Obi-Wan cast back his memory and tried to follow the path of the sound as it had moved.

He hit upon it in moments. Up and straight back. That's where he had gone. Obi-Wan glanced up in that direction and saw a pair of lighted guidance towers on the edge of the landing pad, and in that very instant he also saw the dull gleam of a helmet peek around from the back side of the left-hand tower, up near the top.

The Force shouted a warning, but Obi-Wan didn't need it; he was already Force-leaping and high in the air when the thunder of a concussive rocket struck the spot where he had just been standing. Midair, he twisted his body in just such a way as to ride the shockwave in a controlled fall, landing in a tuck-roll and rising to his feet in plenty of time to raise his lightsaber and deflect the fresh wave of blaster bolts now filling the air.

And blaster bolts weren't the only things in the air. Jango Fett himself was flying straight at him, streams of flame shooting out from the rocket pack on his back, and he was shooting as he came. Once again Obi-Wan found himself picking off shot after shot, letting the Force show him where each bolt would be before it arrived. But he was all too aware that Jango himself would be arriving in moments, and he had no desire to be caught within range of that flamethrower again.

So he decided to turn the tables.

Gathering the Force around him, Obi-Wan lifted his left palm and pushed it outwards, releasing the pent-up Force-energy in a concentrated burst.

A low rumble filled the air as the powerful wave of pressurized air struck Jango Fett and knocked him out of the sky. He tumbled down to the deck and landed with a heavy thud, and the rocket pack on his back crackled and sparked and then abruptly went dark. Farther away sounded the metallic clangs of his blasters hitting the deck.

Obi-Wan was already in motion, running with all the speed he could muster toward the downed bounty hunter, who was stirring slightly, clearly stunned by the fall. Bringing his lightsaber up in preparation for the disabling blow, Obi-Wan rapidly closed the distance between them, but when he was still several lengths away, his Force-senses warned him of approaching danger, coming not from Jango Fett but from the direction of the ship. Not stopping to question it, Obi-Wan obeyed his instincts and sprang away.

Too slow this time. Instead of riding the shockwave in a graceful leap, a violent fiery blast sent him into an uncontrollable tumble to the ground, and he hit the deck hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him and sending his lightsaber skittering away. Obi-Wan lay there dazed for a moment, his ears ringing from the explosive power of the ship's cannons. Through the haze of smoke he could dimly see the small face of Boba Fett peering through the viewport of the ship's cockpit, surveying the damage he had wrought.

Fighting to catch his breath again, Obi-Wan rolled over onto his hands and knees and then staggered to his feet, forcing himself through sheer willpower to overcome his disorientation. Through the lingering smoke of the explosion, he could see that Jango Fett was already on his feet and running for the boarding ramp of his ship.

"Oh no, you don't," Obi-Wan muttered.

Too dazed for the moment to call on the Force, Obi-Wan settled for charging toward Jango like a hunger-crazed reek, his legs churning clumsily but powerfully, taking him straight into the bounty hunter's path. Three steps away from the boarding ramp, they collided, Obi-Wan wrapping his arms around the man's torso and slamming him down to the ground. They rolled over and over, tangled up in each other, but stopped abruptly as they crashed up against the guardrail surrounding the edge of the landing pad. Jango managed to put his armored elbow in Obi-Wan's gut and break free. Simultaneously they scrambled up, only a few feet away from each other. Through his own gasps Obi-Wan could hear Jango's ragged breathing echoing loudly inside his helmet. The moment extended as they stared at each other, fists up in guard position, eyeing each other warily, waiting for the other to make a move.

A sudden flash of lightning lit up the T-shaped visor of Jango's helmet. Jango took advantage of the blinding light to swing a right hook at Obi-Wan's face, but the Jedi Knight was ready and already in motion, blocking the blow with his forearm and then lashing out with his own fist, aiming for the gap in Jango's armor that left his left side exposed. Jango took the blow with a grunt but didn't break his stance. He cocked his arm back as if to punch again. Thunder boomed overhead. Instinctively Obi-Wan guarded his face with his arms to block the incoming blow, but what happened next was entirely unexpected.

Swiftly Jango stepped to the side and a hissing whoosh could be heard through the ping of the raindrops on the desk. Obi-Wan jumped away from the sound, but abruptly he felt a sharp pain, like the sting of a whip, slap across his wrists, and before he could do anything he found his arms tangled up in the thin, strong cord of a grappling line.

Obi-Wan tried to jerk his hands apart, but the cord would not yield.

This... was a problem.

Jango made a sudden motion, his gloved hand darting toward a button on his vambrace where the other end of the grappling cord was still attached.

He never got a chance to press that button.

Seizing the taut cord with both his hands, Obi-Wan yanked on it with all his strength. Hauled forward like a puppet on a string, Jango stumbled toward Obi-Wan and roughly grabbed onto the sleeves of his robe with gloved hands, fighting to regain balance.

It was the chance Obi-Wan had been waiting for. Clenching his hands into fists, he struck up from underneath and smashed his bound hands squarely underneath Jango's helmet where the soft flesh under his chin was exposed. He was rewarded by the sound of Jango grunting loudly as his head snapped back from the force of the blow.

Obi-Wan was just pulling back for a second blow, but before he could let it fly, Jango, who was still clinging tenaciously to his sleeves, suddenly threw his head forward and rammed his helmet forcefully against Obi-Wan's head.

A blinding pain exploded in Obi-Wan's skull. Suddenly the sound of the driving rain, the crashing waves, the ship's engines, everything, grew muffled, as though his ears were plugged with water, and a gray haze came creeping in from the edges of his vision. Something hard hit against the back of his calves, and the gray skies overhead blurred. Gradually Obi-Wan became aware of a strange sensation, as if the bottom had dropped out from his stomach, and a vaguely familiar armored figure in front of him seemed to be growing smaller and smaller, rising up and away from him.

Something smooth and metallic was sliding across his cheek where he lay. It was sliding underneath his whole body, in fact, wet and cold, sliding on and on and on. The tips of his boots squeaked against it. What in the name of the first light was it? It was so hard to see. Blink as much as he could, that gray haze before his eyes would not dissipate. His thoughts wobbled in confusion. He realized he had no idea where he was, or how he had ended up there, or what exactly was happening to him.

Something jerked painfully against his wrists in one hard wrench. A thin cord, he realized: his arms were all tangled up in its loops. As suddenly as it had tightened, the line went slack.

The sliding motion was making him nauseated. Obi-Wan tried to grasp onto the metal sheet with his fingertips, press his knees against it, make it stop sliding. The sliding slowed but didn't stop. Something warm and sticky trickled down his forehead and dripped into his eye. Blood. His own blood. As abruptly as a thunderclap he realized that his head was throbbing with pain. It stung especially deep in one spot just below his hairline.

Something was seriously wrong. He had to figure out what was going on. Obi-Wan tried to lift his head, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. But for a moment the haze in his vision receded, and now he saw that the armored man, whoever he was, was moving back toward him, lying on his belly, coming headfirst, with the same wet metallic sheet sliding underneath him. Dimly Obi-Wan understood that the cords around his hands were connected to the man's arm, that the two of them were tied together, and though his own sliding had slowed, the man was coming toward him faster and faster, almost as though he were in a free-fall.

Falling!

They were falling!

With a gasp, Obi-Wan realized that the metal underneath him was not sliding, he himself was, and suddenly everything came back in a gut-wrenching rush.

Kamino. The clones. Jango Fett. The fight in the rain.

They had fallen off the landing pad. Tied together, they were sliding down the skirt of the dome along with all the rainwater the structure was designed to shed, and when they reached the edge they were going to plummet down into the churning waves below. If the fall didn't kill them, being smashed against the pylons would, or if not, they would have the pleasure of drowning together.

_Oh, not good._

Sparks showered down on Obi-Wan's head. Wincing, he glanced up and saw that Jango had unsheathed a jagged row of blades from one of his vambraces and was jamming them against the curve of the dome, slowing his fall. The line connecting them grew taut once more. Slowly, slowly, Jango ground to a halt, and then there they hung, going neither down nor up, with Obi-Wan dangling below the bounty hunter by the cord, like a weight on a fishing line. An entirely untenable position.

Taking a risk, Obi-Wan grabbed the cord binding them and, bracing himself on his elbows and knees, used it to hitch himself up several inches. Above him, Jango Fett wobbled and nearly lost his grip on the slick surface. Obi-Wan thought he heard what sounded like a muffled curse. Ignoring this, as well as his aching head, Obi-Wan hitched himself up on the cord again, but almost immediately lost the ground he'd gained when Jango lost his grip for a moment and slid down several inches.

This was absurd. If Obi-Wan had to die, he certainly did not want to die while chained to a hired killer, of all people.

Jango must have been thinking along the same lines, only in reference to dying while chained to Jedi scum, because he chose that moment to cautiously lift his right arm up and over to his left arm, which was still anchored firmly against the dome thanks to the bladed vambrace, and press a button.

The cable snapped loose, and its thin coils slithered down, piling up against Obi-Wan's head and shoulders. His support gone, Obi-Wan resumed his slow slide toward the heaving seas below. Above him, Jango was slowly but steadily climbing back up to the landing pad.

Uselessly Obi-Wan scrabbled for a handhold with his cold, wet fingers, but there were none. Far below him, he could hear the crash of the waves against the giant pylon, the noise a continual thunder in his ears, an echo of the thunder that rolled through the cloudy skies above. Obi-Wan felt the tips of his boots slip off the edge, and his now his feet dangled in empty air. He'd reached the edge of the dome.

_Not good._

_Not good at all._

**TO BE CONTINUED**

_**Author's note: **Thank you for all your reviews last chapter! They were very helpful in knowing if I'm accomplishing what I'm trying to accomplish here. Thank you for your time and I hope everyone continues to enjoy the story!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Ivan charged down the deserted corridors of Tipoca City, the urgency of the Force pulsing around him. He was running flat-out, his breath coming out in harsh ragged breaths, but still he pushed himself forward, trying to gain more speed, sensing that Obi-Wan was in trouble and there was not a moment to lose. The gleaming white walls were a luminescent blur in his peripheral vision.

Ivan drew on the Force for assistance, feeling its energy enhance his stride, launching him forward with more power than his body alone could generate. Far behind him, he could hear heavy footsteps pounding out a rapid rhythm. He didn't need to look back to know it was Qui-Gon, for the Force was with the Jedi Master as well, propelling him forward at the same break-neck speed.

So close. They were so close to Obi-Wan. Ivan could feel his Master's distress in his mind as if it were his own, and he ran toward it as if his own life depended on it. The corridor curved to the right and then, thank the Force, Ivan spotted the double doors that led out onto a landing platform. Through the misty rain outside he could see the dark outline of a ship, of an unusual shape he did not recognize.

Too impatient to wait for the doors to open, Ivan lifted his hands in the twin gestures of Jedi compulsion, and parted the doors as he flew toward the exit. A few moments later, he was out in the driving rain, skidding to a halt, his eyes squinting through the mist to catch any glimpse of his Master.

A brilliant flash of lightning bathed the landing pad in white light. When it faded, Ivan saw that the landing pad was deserted, save for the ship parked near the edge. No, not deserted. A movement at the edge of the pad attracted his gaze. A man climbed clumsily up and over the low guardrail, slipping on the wet surfaces, and began to make for the boarding ramp of the ship. He was wearing helmet and armor, the same gear Ivan had seen in Jango Fett's quarters.

Ivan's hand flew to his lightsaber, and in one graceful motion he had the green blade activated as he leaped unerringly toward the bounty hunter. Thunder boomed around him, filling the air with vibrations and drowning out all other sounds. Ivan felt the rumbling deep in his bones, but he never took his eyes off Jango Fett as he charged, the Force lightening his steps so that he bounded over the wet deck effortlessly.

Jango's attention was caught by the movement; his helmet turned in Ivan's direction, and the green glow of Ivan's blade was reflected in his T-shaped visor. Visibly startled, the bounty hunter paused only a moment before turning back toward the boarding ramp and putting on a fresh burst of speed. It seemed he wasn't interested in a fight. Too bad. The fight was coming to him. Ivan was going to reach him before he got away.

Or he would have, if it weren't for the ship's cannons.

He felt the explosion a moment before it happened, but there was no time to alter his momentum. Instead, Ivan launched himself up into the air, just as the percussive force of the ship's cannons hit the deck beneath him. An intense wave of heat blasted Ivan mid-air and sent him flying like a rag-doll.

He came down hard, slamming into the low guardrail and crumpling into a heap on the deck. By some miracle, his lightsaber landed only a short distance away. Clinging to the guardrail for support, Ivan staggered back to his feet and called his lightsaber hilt to his hand. He squinted through the rain and saw Jango Fett disappear inside his ship.

Ivan cursed to himself, but he wasn't about to give up. He tensed his muscles, preparing for one last desperate spring, although already the ship's door was sliding shut, when he heard a faint cry behind and below him that gave him pause. Ivan turned and looked over the guardrail, and what he saw made him freeze in horror.

Obi-Wan was far below, laying on his belly at the very edge of the dome, feet dangling over the edge. He was scrabbling at the slippery metal with his fingertips, but he kept slipping further down. His hands were bound together by some kind of cord. Even worse, there was an ugly gash on his forehead, and blood streamed down one side of his face. He looked at Ivan and shouted something that Ivan couldn't quite hear over the roar of the waves below.

Trying not to panic, Ivan looked around frantically for a rope, a pole, something, anything that he could use to reach his Master, but there was nothing at hand. Behind him, the engines of Jango's ship revved, preparing for takeoff. Obi-Wan shouted again, and this time Ivan was just able to catch his words: "Beacon! Beacon!"

It was clipped to Obi-Wan's belt, the homing beacon Master Daroon had given him. Ivan could just see it on the side of his belt. But still he hesitated, not wanting to leave his Master alone in such a predicament.

"Beacon!" Obi-Wan shouted again, a tone of desperation in his voice, and against his instincts Ivan knew he had to obey. His hand snapped out, and with a tug of the Force, the beacon broke free of Obi-Wan's belt.

But even as the device flew up to Ivan's right hand, he was dropping his lightsaber down to Obi-Wan with his left. It slid down the steep incline, and Obi-Wan lifted up his fingers just enough to grab the hilt. He activated the green blade in one swift motion and plunged it deep down into the lip of the dome. Hot slag gushed up against the hilt where the plasma blade had melted through the durasteel, but Obi-Wan hung on tenaciously and his sliding halted.

Satisfied, only then did Ivan turn swiftly and run full-speed toward Jango's ship. Already it was rising heavily into the air, thrusters flaring bright. Ivan wound up and threw the beacon with all his strength. With an audible thunk, it latched onto the hull and spread its flaps, activating a signal.

The ship rose into the air and its wings swiveled into flight position. With a roar of engines, Jango's ship blasted up and away.

Ivan dashed back to the edge of the landing pad and leaned far out, grasping onto the low guardrail for support.

Obi-Wan had vanished.

Horror-stricken, Ivan could only stare at the spot where his Master had dangled just a few moments ago. A red-hot score in the skirt of the dome marked the place where Ivan's lightsaber had punched into the metal… and then slowly cut down through the lip of the dome like a hot knife through butter, aided by the weight of Obi-Wan's body. The fiery trail went all the way to the edge… and there it ended.

"Master! Master!" Ivan howled, but the gusting wind threw his words back at him mockingly. Frantically Ivan scanned the area, hoping against hope that Obi-Wan had managed to climb up in another place somehow, but he was nowhere to be seen. Fear tore at Ivan's throat. He climbed onto the guardrail and balanced there precariously, trying to see down to the rough sea below, fearing to catch a glimpse of a white tunic in the dark water, but all he could see were the white breakers on the waves as they churned and swirled in an endless dizzying pattern.

"Obi-Wan!" Ivan shouted. He fought an irrational desire to throw himself down the incline, knowing that even if he ended up wherever Obi-Wan had gone, he would then be in no position to help. Instead he jumped back down to the landing pad and tried to feel for his training bond with Obi-Wan, and in his distress he unconsciously tore his fingers through his hair.

Nothing. He felt nothing.

He scolded himself that the reason he felt nothing was because he was too frightened and distracted to focus properly, got angry with himself for losing control at a time like this, and after taking several slow steadying breaths he finally forced himself to calm down.

Trying again, he reached out to Obi-Wan. This time, he thought he felt his Master's life force through the tumult of his own emotions. But if Obi-Wan had gone down into the water, he wouldn't have much time left before… before…

Ivan spun on his heels to run back inside, and as he did so, his boot hit something lying on the deck. It was Obi-Wan's lightsaber. Ivan scooped it up and sprinted back inside, back into the pristine corridors of Tipoca City, and ran with all the strength he had left toward the turbolift doors. He had to get down to the lowest levels… before it was too late.

* * *

As he plummeted in a freefall down to the heaving seas of Kamino, it occurred to Obi-Wan that it would have been a really great idea to equip his belt with a grappling hook of his own, back in the Temple.

The next thought that crossed his mind was that he still had Jango Fett's grappling cord tangled around his arms.

Ah, well. Any port in a storm.

In a flurry of movement, he unraveled the cord and freed his arms, caught up one end of the cord in his right hand and threw the rest of it with all the strength the Force could lend him towards one of the metallic catwalks flashing past him as he fell.

A solid hit. The tip of the hook embedded itself into the underside of the catwalk, and Obi-Wan had just enough presence of mind to anchor his grip on the cord with the assistance of the Force. Even so, it stung his palms deeply when he jerked to a sudden stop, but he managed to keep his grip.

There he dangled, soaked to the skin in the driving rain, several stories below the landing pad, with his prey hopelessly out of reach. If only Master Dralig could see him now.

Obi-Wan pumped his legs forward and back, and his body began to swing like a pendulum. Once his arc was long enough, he dropped, somersaulted, and landed lightly on his feet on a catwalk below. In moments he was inside the lower dome and punching the button in the turbolift that would take him back up to the landing pad.

The ride was swift. Obi-Wan fought for breath and held out hope that Ivan was managing to delay Fett's escape, and that they would catch him yet. When the door swished open, he barreled out… and nearly crashed headlong into his Padawan.

"Master!" Ivan nearly shouted at him. "In the name of…!" He broke off and hunched over, pressing one hand against his heart, looking both elated and surprised. "How in the galaxy did you do that?"

Obi-Wan ignored this and started to run past him, back out into the rain. Ivan quickly reached out and restrained him. "No good!"

"Where's Fett?" Obi-Wan gasped.

"Gone. Blasted away. He'll be in hyperspace by now."

"The beacon?"

"Don't worry. I tagged his hull. We'll find him. We'll know the moment he comes out of hyperspace."

Obi-Wan sagged, then leaned up against the wall, fighting to catch his breath. He pushed his wet hair back out of his eyes, and winced as his fingers brushed the bloody gash in his forehead. "Ah! Blast it!"

"Here. Sit down," Ivan ordered. "Let me take care of that." He was already removing the obi wrapped around his waist and folding it up into a makeshift bandage.

Knowing better than to argue with Ivan when he went into healer mode, Obi-Wan slowly slid down the wall into a sitting position. His boots squeaked loudly on the wet floor.

"Just relax," Ivan murmured, kneeling beside him and touching Obi-Wan's forehead gently. "How exactly did this happen?"

"Really... shouldn't butt heads... with someone... wearing a helmet," Obi-Wan panted.

"No kidding."

Obi-Wan laughed weakly as Ivan inspected the wound, his eyes intent. "It isn't bad," he said after a few moments. "Not too deep, just a lot of blood. Hold still." He pressed the pad of cloth against the cut. Ivan's eyes slid shut and his face relaxed, and then Obi-Wan felt the familiar sensation of Force-healing warmth emanating from Ivan's hand through the cloth. He gradually relaxed, watching the stone he'd given Ivan swing back and forth on its chain hypnotically, and felt the pain slowly ebb away. There were times he was very grateful to have an apprentice skilled in healing, and this was one of them. Come to think of it, there were a lot of times he was grateful for that. Ivan liked to tease him about being one of the most injury-prone Knights in the Order. Obi-Wan's favorite retort was that it wasn't his fault the Council liked to give him the most dangerous assignments. Although technically, in this case it was Qui-Gon who had been given the dangerous assignment.

Suddenly Obi-Wan's eyes popped open.

"Where is Qui-Gon?" he asked.

"Don't know," Ivan said. "He must have reached the landing pad just after I did, but we got separated. I haven't seen him since."

"What?" Obi-Wan sat bolt upright.

"He couldn't have engaged with Fett," Ivan said quickly. "I would have seen if he had. I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is. Here, hold this tight." Obi-Wan held the cloth against his cut, and Ivan took out his comm and signaled Qui-Gon.

They waited, but there was no response. Ivan started to look worried.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, and reached out through the Force-bond he shared with Qui-Gon. Their bond wasn't as prominent in his mind as it once had been, but it was still there, and if Qui-Gon was in trouble he should be able to sense it. But though he tuned his full awareness to the bond, he felt no pain or distress coming from his former Master. Wherever he was, he was well. For now. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and told Ivan as much.

"You know..." Ivan said slowly. "I wonder if he boarded the ship. He ran outside just as the ship's cannons went off. That clone boy would have been in the cockpit, distracted; he was targeting me. And Jango Fett was focused on me, too. Qui-Gon could have slipped aboard without being seen."

Obi-Wan blew out a breath slowly. "They didn't know there were three Jedi here. Taun We never mentioned him to Fett. If Qui-Gon managed to escape detection..."

"...he must still be on board, hiding," Ivan finished. "He'll be able to listen for information, or wait to see where Fett goes and who he meets with when he gets there."

"Clever," Obi-Wan said, and he couldn't stop the grin that curved his lips. "Dangerous, but clever. This way he'll probably get more information, and better, than if we had questioned Fett on Coruscant. He isn't the type to break easily."

"But the Council wanted us to arrest him right away," Ivan said. "Won't they disapprove when they find out Qui-Gon decided to follow him instead?"

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan said quietly. There was a time when he, too, would have objected strenuously to Qui-Gon taking such a liberty with the Council's instructions, and especially to the way he had done it - on the spur of the moment, rather than as a cool, calculated decision. Qui-Gon had always operated that way. The best way to follow a plan, Qui-Gon liked to say, was to never make one in the first place. How Obi-Wan had hated that philosophy as an apprentice. But over time he had come to see that Qui-Gon's genius found its best light in this way. He was impulsive, not reckless, and however much Obi-Wan might object to his methods, he couldn't deny that they worked.

Obi-Wan glanced at Ivan. "If Qui-Gon does get valuable information, the Council may give him a lecture on the matter and then leave it at that. They've done it before. They're not unreasonable. They do allow a little leeway, sometimes, for Jedi like Qui-Gon, who operate in... unorthodox ways, but still stay true to the spirit of the Code."

"So, does that mean we don't have to obey the letter of the law anymore?" Ivan quipped, smiling.

"No, you and I are stuck," Obi-Wan said wryly. "I'm too afraid of Master Windu to go astray, and he knows it."

"I don't blame you one little bit," Ivan said with a shudder.

Obi-Wan smiled, and then began to heave himself to his feet, still holding the makeshift bandage against his forehead. Ivan quickly put a hand under his elbow to help him up.

"We better get back to our ship," Obi-Wan said. "We'll return to the edge of the system and wait for the homing beacon to send back a signal the moment Fett's ship comes out of hyperspace." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. "Assuming he doesn't have a hull charge that's zapped it off already."

"Way to look at the bright side, Master," Ivan said.

"This planet depresses me," Obi-Wan said. "I need to see some sunlight."

"Well then, let's hope Fett went somewhere sunny," Ivan said. "By the way, did you lose my lightsaber? I picked up yours outside."

"Safe and sound," Obi-Wan said, unclipping Ivan's lightsaber hilt from his belt. They exchanged weapons.

Obi-Wan glanced at the bounty hunter's landing pad through the rain-streaked doors. There were still strewn about on the deck several of the crates Fett and his clone had been loading onto their ship when Obi-Wan had interrupted them.

"Vanya," Obi-Wan said suddenly, getting an idea. "Do me a favor and go out and look in those crates." Ivan nodded, and jogged back out into the rain.

It had occurred to Obi-Wan that after their tense meeting, Fett must have feared he would soon be pursued by Jedi, which was no laughing matter even for a bounty hunter as skilled as Fett was. What was so important for him to bring along that he would delay his departure to load it up?

Ivan came back in then, shaking raindrops off his robe. Obi-Wan looked at him expectantly.

"They're empty," Ivan reported.

"Empty?" Obi-Wan repeated, surprised. "All of them?"

"All of them," Ivan confirmed. "Why?"

"He stopped to load up empty crates...?" Obi-Wan murmured. Then it dawned on him.

"No," he said out loud. "No. No. No. Kriff it!"

"What?" Ivan demanded.

"He wanted us to catch up to him," Obi-Wan said vehemently. "He was waiting for us."

Ivan's brow furrowed. "He wanted to kill us before we could expose him as Amidala's assassin," he guessed.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "He left before he knew for sure whether I was dead. He didn't kill you. He just wanted to get away. But he wanted us to see his ship before he left. He wanted us to track him. Which means..."

Obi-Wan let his words trail off, but he could see by the haunted look in his eyes that Ivan understood perfectly.

Qui-Gon had just walked into a trap.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
